Close Your Eyes
by Aireon Maris
Summary: Buffy was never meant to go to hell with Angel. But she did. Manipulated by unknown forces and entrusted with the safety of a mysterious child, together they struggle to stay alive and find a way home.
1. Chapter 1

Close Your Eyes

Angel didn't go to hell alone, and now he and Buffy struggle to find their way home.

Disclaimer: I am borrowing all recognizable characters. I just didn't tell Mutant Enemy.

Please tell me what you think! Flames will be used for vengeance spells.

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One:

"Close your eyes."

Those were the last words she had spoken. The last thing she had told her lover before running her sword through his chest. She could remember the moment as clear as if it was happening before her eyes again. The shock and betrayal in his brown eyes. The expression of pain twisting his beautiful face. The heat of his blood on her hand and the sharp jerk as she was yanked off her feet into this place.

She was sure it was hell.

She wandered down the empty, silent corridor, her gaze fixed on the door at the end. A voice echoed up and down the hall. "Angel! Angel!" She thought it might be hers. The door neared, and she reached out to take the handle…

Her quarry ran ahead of her, dodging through the headstones, but she pursued him relentlessly. The distance between them shortened as she pressed harder, her Slayer strength giving her extra speed. She caught up with her enemy and grabbed his arm, throwing him to the ground. He rolled to his feet, whirling to face her. She couldn't make out his features in the darkness, but she knew what he would look like: demonic, inhuman, a monster.

She clutched her stake tighter and drove her heel into his stomach, knocking him backwards into a tombstone. He scrambled to his feet and attempted to block her attacks, but she drove him inexorably backwards.

"Please," he said, his voice distorted through a mouthful of fangs. "Please, no."

"Begging won't save you, vampire," she spat, lifting her stake for the final blow. It pierced his heart with little resistance and he stumbled backwards, clutching at the stake through his chest. For the first time, the moonlight fell on his face and she screamed.

"Angel!"

"Buffy," Angel whispered, and exploded into ashes.

*****

Pain. There was always pain. In his chest, a deep, burning agony as if the sword was still there. In his head, a fire blazing in his skull. On his skin, a thousand burning knives piercing his flesh. In his soul, where the face of every life he had taken stared at him with accusing eyes.

And always he was alone. There was no voice but his in the darkness, his the only screams, the only sobs and wasted pleas.

She had sent him here. But he had deserved it, hadn't he? He had allowed Angelus to escape. It was his fault. She had been right to condemn him.

"Close your eyes."

He clung to the image of her face, the last thing he had seen before coming here. It was the only thing keeping him sane.

The demon could smell her fear and growled in anticipation. Angel was confused. He wasn't in control of his body. Ahead of him, the girl cast a look over her shoulder, searching the shadows for any sign of danger. The demon forced Angel to walk closer, as silent as the darkness. Angel realized with a sick feeling what the demon had planned and struggled to make it stop, to halt its slow yet inevitable approach, but he was a helpless spectator entrapped in his own mind, forced to watch helplessly.

Closer the demon came, and closer. The girl froze and whirled around, her eyes widening in shock and fear. With a scream she began to run, and the demon howled with pleasure at the chase. The demon caught her within moments, holding her as she struggled for life.

Angel struggled, too, but to no avail. The demon held the girl still and opened its mouth, fangs inches from her neck.

"Angel, why?" Buffy asked, tears bright in her eyes.

"Because it's what I am," the demon replied, and bit down.

*****

Giles stood before the stone effigy, glaring maliciously at the demon. On the floor at the statue's feet lay a sword, its blade rusted with blood. A few feet away, something glinted silver in the afternoon light. The Watcher stooped to pick it up and saw that it was a silver ring carved in the shape of a Claddaugh. He turned it over in his fingers with a sigh.

Xander and Willow entered the room from different doorways. "Still no sign of her?" Giles asked. Both teenagers shook their heads.

"Whatever happened, she managed to keep Deadboy from sucking the world into hell," Xander said, indicating the statue of Acathla with a nod. He grunted when Willow elbowed him hard in the side. "Ow!"

"She and Angel—I mean, Angelus—must have fought," the aspiring witch said. "She obviously won. Killing Angel—Angelus—must have been really hard for her. I'm sure she just needs time."

Giles sighed again, still clutching the ring in his hand. "Yes. I'm sure that's it. I just wish we knew where she was."

*****

A voice echoing down an empty corridor… "Angel! Angel!" A single door, forbidding and unpleasant… Reaching for the doorknob, unsure of what lay beyond…

Her quarry ran ahead of her… The distance between them shortened… She caught up with him, threw him to the ground… "Please. Please, no." He stumbled backwards, clutching at the stake through his chest.

"Angel!"

"Buffy…"

"Close your eyes."


	2. Chapter 2

"It was not supposed to happen like this."

"You are blaming me? How could I have foreseen this?"

"You were the one that drove the Kalderash into cursing him!" The first entity crackled with anger, her essence dark and agitated.

"They were not supposed to create the loophole," the second entity protested, as agitated as the first. "And the Slayer was never supposed to fall in love with him."

Lightning flickered through her presence and her voice snapped and lashed with power. "Now you are accusing me? I was told to bring them together. Nothing was said of love. And you know we are never to interfere with true love."

"Whoever's fault it is," he said swiftly, attempting to redirect her ire, "We must do something to salvage this. They were never meant to end up there."

"As long as they are in that hell they are useless to us," she agreed. "We must find a way to bring them out."

"If we were to interfere directly, the Others would not be pleased," he reminded her.

"Then we must find another way to bring them home," she retorted.

*****

The darkness lifted slowly. The first thing he noticed was that the pain was gone. He felt strange without it, buoyant and unreal. He spent an eternity trying to remember how to move his limbs and eventually managed to open his eyes. He hissed in pain and screwed them tight again. The light was blinding. He lay unmoving on a hard surface and waited for his body to catch up with his mind.

A short distance away, he heard a faint groan and a quiet scrape. He opened his eyes again, squinting against the brilliance. A crumpled body, clad in dark clothes, lay within arm's reach. The other's face was hidden by a fall of blonde hair but he could tell it was female and there was something…familiar about her.

She seemed to be as sluggish as he felt, trying to figure out how to use a body that had lain in disuse for…days? Years? There was no way to tell.

"Crap."

The single, muttered word seemed so out of place that he frowned involuntarily. The woman beside him lifted her head, her hair falling back to reveal her features. His dead, unbeating heart flipped over in his chest.

Was this a new game? Some twisted new torment invented in place of the old one? She blinked hazel-green eyes at him, her expression blank with shock.

"Angel?" Buffy whispered. "What—?" Her mouth opened and closed silently for a moment, and then she blurted, "You're not dead!"

He continued to lay staring at her and wondered when the pain would begin, when he would be forced to kill her.

"How are you not dead?" she asked. "I killed you." Tears sprang to her eyes. "Over and over again. A hundred different ways."

He blinked, confused by her words. She had killed him, hadn't she? In the mansion, in front of the statue of Acathla. It's what had sent him here.

"Angel? Can you hear me?"

He focused on her face, twisted into a mask of bemusement. She seemed to be waiting for something. She had asked him a question, hadn't she? "Yes," he replied after a long moment of concentration. He frowned with effort and managed to ask, "Am I going to kill you again?"

"What are you talking about?" she whispered.

"That's how this always happens," he told her wearily. "The demon makes me kill you."

"You aren't making any sense, Angel," she said, shaking her head slightly.

"Neither are you," he felt it necessary to point out.

She closed her eyes as if exhausted. When she opened them, her gaze traveled past him. "Where are we?" she asked softly.

He found that he had enough energy to sit up. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. They were lying out in the open. They were surrounded by a rocky, desolate landscape, blasted and void of life. Above them, roiling, black clouds filled the red sky. A sickly light was on the place, despite the fact there was no sun.

"Hell?" he offered with no trace of humor.

She shivered. "I never thought it would be so cold in hell."

He looked at her again and frowned. This was by far the strangest method of torture had endured. Was he supposed to pity her? How could he feel empathy for a figment, a phantasm?

He got slowly to his feet and looked around. I'd rather be back in the darkness, he thought dryly. Beside him, she also achieved an upright position, but she swayed and grabbed his arm for support.

"How—how did we get here?" she asked without letting go her hold. "Did we come here through Acathla's portal?"

"You sent me here," he told her without malice. Yet she still flinched and released his arm.

"I-I had no choice," she said brokenly. "Your blood…it was the only way to close the portal."

He nodded, not really caring. Instead, he scanned the horizon, searching for some clue as to what he should do next. With a shrug both mental and physical, he picked a direction and began walking.

"Where are you going?" she called.

"I don't know," he replied without looking back. After a moment, he heard her footsteps as she ran after him. Together, silent, they set off across the nightmare landscape.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way to tell how long they picked their way across the shattered, rocky plain, but it felt like days. They stopped to rest a few times, but neither of them spoke. Angel didn't mind the silence, really, but sometimes it made him uncomfortable. He felt uneasy, each moment expecting the torment to begin and he would be forced to kill Buffy…again.

They stood at the top of a cliff, staring down at the ground below. Angel mused whether to try to find a way down or to walk along it. Buffy stood shivering beside him and offered no opinion one way or the other. He finally made up his mind and leaned over the edge.

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, her voice sounding slightly alarmed. She was standing well back from the cliff, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Looking for a way down," he replied distantly, scanning the cliff face.

"We're going down that thing?" she asked nervously. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, look for a way around it or something?"

"Why?" he asked bluntly. He could think of no reason why they shouldn't go down the cliff. After all, they had no real idea where they were going, anyway. Buffy considered for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Okay," she said. "Let's find a way down."

They walked about a mile along the cliff before finding a place with enough hand- and footholds to get them down. Angel descended first and Buffy watched him go, marking his path so she could follow it. Angel was careful, testing each hold before trusting his weight. He had no desire to see if he could die in hell.

He glanced upwards as a trickle of dirt and rock chips fell into his hair. Buffy looked down at him and shrugged in apology. He checked their progress and noted they were over halfway to the bottom.

Buffy suddenly gasped and a shower of crumbled stone cascaded over Angel's shoulders an instant before she began to fall past him. Angel's arm shot out and he grabbed her wrist. The force of her fall knocked his feet loose from the cliff wall, and they dangled in the air, supported only by his hand clinging to the rock.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She stared up at him, her green eyes wide. "Yeah, I think so," she said breathlessly.

"Hold on," he instructed, scrabbling at the cliff with his feet.

He could hear her pulse pounding in shock, and a similar thrill of fear jabbed through his chest. In that split second before he caught her, he had been afraid. It was as if he was waking up for the first time, realizing that Buffy was right there with him. He swallowed hard and reset his feet, giving her stability as she sought for her own holds.

They descended the remaining distance as quickly as possible, and the second his feet hit the ground, Angel swept Buffy into his embrace. She clung to him, her cheek pressed against his.

"You're here," he whispered, fighting against tears. "You're really here. It's really you."

"Yeah, it's really me," she replied, stroking her hand over his hair.

"How did you get here?" Angel demanded, leaning back so he could see her face.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I remember…after I…" she trailed off, unable to look him in the face.

"After you stabbed me," he supplied gently, his voice holding no resentment.

"After that, I felt like something was pulling me, and then…" she shuddered and Angel held her close again.

"Sh, sh, sh. It's all right," he murmured gently. "It's going to be okay."

"That's when I started killing you," she said unevenly, her breath hitching in a sob.

"You never killed me. I'm right here," Angel soothed. He quickly decided not to tell her his own nightmares. They held each other in mutual comfort for a long time before Buffy finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

"So, this is where Acathla's portal dumped us?" she said, taking another look around. The view at the bottom of the cliff was depressingly similar to the view from the top of the cliff.

"I suppose so," he replied.

"What are we going to do, Angel?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh. He reached over and took her hand. "We'll find a way out of this," he told her, trying to force hope into his voice without much success. She gave him a look as if to tell him that and his shoulders slumped. "You shouldn't be here, Buffy. I'm sorry."

She shrugged again, a weary look on her face. "There's nothing we can do about that now." She combed her hair back form her face with her fingers. "So, now what? We start walking again?"

"Until we get someplace or something happens," Angel said, squaring his shoulders. He held out his hand to her and she took it firmly. They set their backs to the cliff and continued their journey.

*****

Joyce stood outside the door for a long time, debating whether to knock or to walk away. She hadn't seen Xander or Willow since Buffy…left, and it was time to get answers. So she lifted her hand and rapped her knuckles briskly against the wood. It was a few minutes before the lock turned, and then, "Mrs. Summers," Rupert Giles greeted, looking slightly confused. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, you can tell me where my daughter is," Joyce said sharply. Mr. Giles seemed to deflate slightly and stepped back from the door.

"Do come in," he invited in a hollow voice. The apartment was clean and mostly tidy, save for the books scattered across any flat surface. "May I get you something to drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Joyce replied, walking into the middle of the living room and turning around. "I'm a little stressed out at the moment, so I think you'll excuse me if I get right to the point. Three weeks ago my daughter walked out of our house and no one has seen her since. And somehow I can't help but think you're involved."

Joyce began to pace but Giles stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on the ground. "You know, when we first moved here, I thought she could start over, that she'd stay out of trouble. But the instant she started spending time with you, everything began going downhill."

Giles took off his glasses and offered a stuttering protest. "Th-there were extenuating circumstances an-and Buffy, w-well, she—"

"Is a vampire Slayer, I know," Joyce interrupted. "She told me before she disappeared. Are you the one that got her involved in all of this nonsense? Did you encourage these, these delusions?"

Giles finally met Joyce's gaze. "I assure you, they are no delusions," he said firmly. "Buffy is indeed the vampire Slayer and has been since she was fifteen. She's kept this a secret from you for your own safety."

"My safety?" Joyce echoed angrily. "Safety from what? There are no such things as vampires, Mr. Giles. Now please just tell me where Buffy is."

The man suddenly looked very old and tired, the lines around his blue eyes deepening. "I'm afraid I have no idea," he said softly.

*****

"Wow," Buffy said after a moment of shocked silence.

"Yeah. Wow," Angel agreed.

"That's…um…big," Buffy continued.

"It certainly is," Angel agreed again.

"So…what? Do we go around it?"

_Angel peered up at the mountain looking above them. "No, he said thoughtfully. "I want to see what's on top."_


	4. Chapter 4

"Are they ready, do you think?" the male asked his companion.

She considered the question for a long time, her aura changing constantly. "Perhaps. If not yet, then they will be once the Tribulation begins. And if they complete that, then the Others cannot interfere with our decision."

"You put a great deal of faith in these finite beings," he said, carefully edging out of range should she take the statement badly.

"I see much strength in them. They have great potential to serve our purposes," she replied sharply. "Where in the Dictates is that forbidden?"

"Nowhere, of course," he said hastily, moving even further away. "But I feel obliged to remind you we must not favor one mortal over another."

"I DO NOT FAVOR THEM!" she thundered, her presence becoming stormy and threatening. "HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST I ACT COUNTER TO THE DICTATES?"

"I dare nothing," he said, cringing away from her wrath. "I meant no offense! I spoke only out of concern—"

"Silence," she interrupted, her attention already elsewhere. "I want to see what they do next."

*****

Joyce listened with a sense of growing horror as Giles spoke, his monologue occasionally interrupted by Xander and Willow to confirm the outlandish stories he recounted. He talked about a vampire called the Master, a place known as the Hellmouth, and a destiny Buffy had supposedly followed.

"I don't believe it," she said, shaking her head. "I just can't believe it."

"I-it's the truth!" Willow exclaimed. "D-didn't you ever wonder about her? About the strange things that happened around here? How many times did you see her in the morning with bruises or cuts she wouldn't explain? How many times did you wash blood out of her clothes but were too afraid to ask her where it had come from?" The redhead jumped to her feet and continued her impassioned speech. "It hurt her so much to lie to you, but she didn't want you to have to carry that burden. She knew you wouldn't understand, and she was right! Buffy deserves more than that, you know! She needs your support, not this, this pig-headed ignorance!"

"Willow!" Giles said sharply, and the teenager instantly snapped her mouth shut, but didn't look a bit apologetic.

"The last few months have indeed been difficult on Buffy, for several reasons," Giles said with a quelling look at Willow. "We were hoping she had decided to attempt to work through them on her own, and that she would return when she was ready. Unfortunately, we've received no word as to her whereabouts and none of my sources have been able to find her."

Joyce sat in stunned speechlessness, unable to string enough words together to make a sentence. Xander gave her a sympathetic look.

"If it makes you feel any better, that's how I felt when I found out," he told her.

"What, exactly, was she dealing with?" Joyce finally asked. "Why would she need to leave?"

The three exchanged knowing looks and Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them on his shirt. "Did—did she ever tell you about Angel?"

"I've met him, yes," she said, her voice stiff with disapproval.

"Well, you see—" Giles frowned, choosing his words very carefully. "She… The circumstances were such that…"

"She sort of had to kill him," Xander said bluntly.

"Xander!" Willow cried, just as Joyce exclaimed, "What?!"

"He was trying to end the world!" Xander said defensively. "It was the right thing to do!"

"You're just saying that because you never did like him," Willow said furiously. "You hated that she loved him and not you."

"Well, yeah, that kind of sting a little," Xander snapped back. "After all, I was the one with a pulse."

Giles cleared his throat pointedly and both teenagers instantly fell silent, sending sidelong glares at each other.

"Buffy killed Angel?" Joyce said in a very small voice.

The Watcher stared at the wire and glass contraption in his hand. "She had no choice, I'm afraid," he said softly. "Xander was right; he was trying to end the world." He slid his glasses into place and lifted his gaze to Joyce's face. "She loved him, you know. Angel, not the demon that wore his face. It must have destroyed her to do what she did."

*****

"What do you think we'll find at the top?" Buffy asked as they paused to rest on a narrow, gravel-covered ledge. Angel leaned against the mountainside and stared out where the red, stone horizon met the red sky.

"The other side," he replied. "Maybe a good view. It's the only landmark other than the cliff for miles."

"Do you ever stop to think…maybe this is all useless?" she said heavily. "That there's no reason to keep moving because we're never going to get anywhere?"

"It's crossed my mind," he said quietly.

She looked at him questioningly and he sighed. "Buffy, we're trapped in a hell dimension with no way of going home. Yes, it's most likely that we're going nowhere, but we have to do something or we'll go insane. If we let ourselves think that it's hopeless, then we might as well lie down here and die, and I'm not going to give up as long as you're with me."

She continued to stare at him for a moment, and then dropped her head onto his shoulder. "You're right," she said. "If we pretend we're going somewhere, it doesn't seem so bad." She leaned forward, crossing her arms over her legs and propping her chin on her knees. "Do you think they're all right?" she asked suddenly. "Giles and Willow and Xander. Do you think they're okay?"

"I'm sure they're fine," he told her.

She nodded, her mind clearly elsewhere. "My mom…she's going to be worried. When I left to…to get Giles, we didn't exactly say the nicest things to each other."

"What happened?" Angel asked gently.

"She kicked me out of the house," Buffy replied.

Angel wasn't sure what to say for a long time. He reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "That must have been hard."

"Not the hardest thing I had to do that night," she said bitterly. Angel scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

"Don't think about that," he instructed. "Just…just forget about it, okay?"

"How can I forget?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I tried to kill you, Angel."

"There wasn't anything else you could have done," he told her. "Please, for my sake, can we move on?"

She sniffled a little but nodded. "Okay," she agreed, sounding a little reluctant. After a beat of silence, she stirred. "I guess we should get moving again, huh?"

Angel rolled gracefully to his feet and helped her up. "Yeah, I guess so."


	5. Chapter 5

"Did Buffy say anything to you? Perhaps indicating where she might have gone?" Giles asked Joyce as he handed her a fresh cup of tea.

"No. Nothing," Joyce replied hollowly. She still couldn't bring herself to believe that her daughter killed vampires and demons in her spare time. It was too much of a shock. "We…argued. I forbid her to leave. She went anyway."

Giles snorted and sipped at his own tea. "She had to go. Her duty as a Slayer must always come first. It is what and who she is. She could've no more stayed than cut her own arm off." He noticed Joyce's expression. "Did—did something happen between you two?"

"I might have—well, I was very angry, and…" Joyce shook her head. "I told her not to come back," she whispered.

"What?" Giles asked in disbelief. He set his mug down hard enough to spill the hot liquid over the edge. "You told her not to come back? Do you have any idea how much stress she was under?"

"No!" Joyce exclaimed. "No, I had no idea because Buffy didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on!"

"Don't you dare put the blame on her!" Giles said furiously. "You cannot imagine how much she has sacrificed or what she has endured! It wasn't that she didn't trust you; she simply didn't want you to be hurt. And then you all but kick her out of your home… It's no wonder she hasn't returned!" Giles paced away from her, running his hands through his dark, thick hair.

Behind him, Joyce suddenly found herself breathless as everything crashed down on her and she began to cry.

*****

"You know what? I'm not even going to bother asking if we should go in there," Buffy said dryly. Angel snorted without taking his eyes off the mouth of the cavern. "I just want you to remember, the last time I walked into a creepy, dark cave, I died," Buffy continued. "So if anything happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't," he replied. He took an unnecessary breath and shot her a questioning look. "You ready?"

"I guess," she replied, taking his outstretched hand. Together they walked into the darkness. Angel could see perfectly well and he guided Buffy around any obstacles they came across. After a few minutes of exploration, he suddenly caught a whisper of sound.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, his head whipping around.

"Hear what?" Buffy asked, her Slayer senses alert.

Angel didn't reply. He stood perfectly still and listened hard. It came again, the slither of silk over stone. "That," he said softly. "Hear it?"

"Yeah, I did," she replied. "What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure, but I doubt it's friendly." Angel took a few steps deeper into the cave. "I don't see anything, though."

Buffy looked back over her shoulder. There was a faint red glow from the direction of the cave mouth. For the first time, she felt nervous about being in the dark, restricted cave. "Angel, maybe we should go back," she said, tightening her grip on her hand.

Angel hesitated, but Buffy pulled on his hand. "Maybe you're right," he said, reluctantly turning around. His hand closed over air, and Buffy was gone. He stared at the place where she had been a moment before. "Buffy?" he called, turning his head to look for her. He could smell her presence, but he couldn't tell where it led. "Buffy!"

"Angel!" The faint scream came from deeper in the cave.

"Buffy!" Angel plunged forward into the cave, still calling her name. He caught a brief glimpse of her, unconscious, being dragged backwards by something large. He picked up his speed as the creature and Buffy disappeared around a corner.

Angel caught movement at the corner of his eye and a slim body crashed into him, knocking him off-balance. He tossed his attacker away and prepared to continue the assault when he saw that it was a young woman.

She had a pale, gaunt face nearly hidden behind a curtain of dark, tangled hair. Her clothing was so worn and tattered it was impossible to tell what it had originally been. She got unsteadily to her feet and advanced on Angel again, her hands grasping at him.

"Please, please do not hurt him!" she begged. "He does not mean it, I swear!"

Angel pushed her away, gentler this time. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Where is he taking Buffy?"

"It is not his fault," the woman insisted, her eyes wild. "He cannot help himself! Please do not hurt him."

"Calm down," Angel said sharply. He had little patience when Buffy was in danger. "Who took Buffy? Where is she?"

"James," the woman said, cringing away from him. "His name is James. He is my brother. It is not his fault. Sometimes he just…changes, even without the moon. James is a good man, I promise."

"He's a werewolf?" Angel asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "How did you get here?"

She flinched, her hands coming up to protect her head. "Not our fault. A curse. Father had enemies. James… Sometimes he goes mad. He does not mean to hurt people."

Angel could see she would be of no help to him in her current state. He crouched down and reached out to touch her shoulder. She flinched again and he withdrew his hand. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Eleanor," she replied, peeking over her arms at him. "Who are you?"

"Angel," he said. "Listen, Eleanor, it is very important that you tell me where James took Buffy."

"I am sorry about your friend," she whispered. "I do not want anyone to be hurt."

"Then tell me where James took her," Angel said again.

She took a deep breath. "Do you promise not to harm him?"

Angel hesitated and answered, "I'll do my best."

Eleanor hesitated for a long moment, but then she nodded and used the wall to get to her feet. "He has a place where he feels safe," she explained. "I'll take you there."


	6. Chapter 6

Eleanor seemed to have the caves memorized. She didn't have Angel's advantage of vampire eyesight, but she scrambled around in the dark as agilely as he could have. She occasionally paused, tilting her head as if to make sure Angel was following her, before scampering onward.

"How long have you been here?" Angel asked quietly.

Eleanor stopped in her tracks, her expression stunned. "I-I don't know, sir," she said at length. "Sometimes it feels as if months have passed, and sometimes as if years."

Angel sighed. Judging from the way she spoke, he put his money on years. In fact, it sounded as if she dated back to the same time period he did: the 1700s.

"And you, sir?" Eleanor asked.

He shook his head despite knowing she couldn't see. "The same," he replied.

She hesitated for a moment longer, and then blurted, "How did you come to be here, sir?"

Angel sighed. 'I went evil and the woman I loved killed me to stop me destroying the world,' he said mentally. "It's a long story, Eleanor. Are we almost there?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. It is not far along, now. You should not speak after this. James knows my voice and will not be afraid, but if he hears a stranger he will surely take fright." She peered through the darkness in his direction, and then scurried down a narrow side passage.

Angel had to duck in order to fit into the passageway. He heard Eleanor shuffling along ahead of him, and nearly ran into her when she stopped again. "Here it is," she whispered. Angel put his hand on her shoulder to encourage her forward, and she stepped forward and to the side.

Ahead of him was a small, rough chamber lit by a sullen red glow from the cracks in the distant ceiling. On the far side, a hulking, ragged figure crouched over Buffy's crumpled body. Rage bubbled up through Angel's chest, and with a feral growl, he launched himself toward the werewolf. The beast spun around and met Angel's charge with its claws, burying them in Angel's sides.

He snarled in pain, his face morphing into his demonic visage, and he slammed his elbow into the werewolf's face, sending it stumbling backwards with a yelp. He bounded after it, raining blows upon its head and torso until its back was pressed against the wall.

The werewolf howled and pushed off the wall, throwing its full weight against Angel. It snapped at his throat, going instinctively for the jugular, but Angel wrapped his hands around the creature's neck and began to squeeze. The werewolf panted, drooled, and struggled, its claws raking Angel's chest, but the vampire hung on. He could hear the werewolf's heart beat, loud and rhythmic, and he wanted nothing more than to make it stop.

"You promised!" a woman wailed from somewhere to Angel's left.

Angel abruptly snapped back to himself and freed one hand from James' neck. He hauled back and slammed his fist down between the werewolf's ears and he fell limp in Angel's hands. Angel pushed the werewolf off of him and sat up.

Eleanor rushed over to them, half-sobbing as she gathered James into her lap, stroking his fur and murmuring comfortingly. Angel crawled the short distance to where Buffy lay and turned her over. She was breathing steadily but a large, purple-green bruise was forming on the right side of her face. Angel ran his hands over her arms and began to check every inch of her skin.

She woke up as he began checking her torso and blinked groggily at him. "Um…Angel?" she said, her voice slurred. "I don't think this is exactly the best place for that…"

"What?" He stared at her. "No, no," he said quickly, finally catching her meaning. He cupped her face in one hand. "I'm making sure the werewolf didn't bite you. How do you feel?"

"Like I got whacked on the head with a rock," she mumbled. Tears suddenly flooded her eyes. "Oh, Angel…" He lifted her in his arms and she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

Neither of them noticed James morph back to human behind them. He and Eleanor exchanged triumphant expressions and melted away like shadows at noon. The chamber was abruptly filled with pure, blinding light, and when it faded, Buffy and Angel were gone.

*****

Angel lifted his head in confusion. What happened to the caves? Where was the shattered stone landscape and blasted red sky? Then he realized he was sitting square in a beam of yellow sunlight and gave a small shriek.

"Angel!" Buffy yelled, noticing the same thing. She shoved him hard with her Slayer strength, sending him tumbling backwards into the shadow of a tree.

Wait. Tree?

He lay on his back, staring up at the gently waving leaves above him. "Uh…Buffy? Do you notice anything different?" he asked, frowning up at the glimpses of blue sky he caught between the leaves.

"Just a little, yeah," she replied, getting unsteadily to her feet. She looked around, completely baffled. "How…how did we get here?"

"I have no idea," Angel said, sitting up. "And another thing. I appear to be very much not bursting into flame right now." He reached out and experimentally stuck his hand in a patch of sunlight. Nothing happened.

"Angel, you're bleeding!" Buffy exclaimed, wobbling over to him and dropping to her knees. She pushed the tatters of his shirt aside and gently touched one of his wounds. Angel hissed in pain and flinched away.

"Don't worry about that. They're not that serious."

Buffy sat down and leaned against the tree trunk. The sun appeared to be setting, darkness gathering under the canopy. "Are we still in hell? Because this doesn't look much like hell."

"Maybe it's a different kind of hell," Angel said, pushing himself upright. He and Buffy sat shoulder-to-shoulder for a long time, watching the sky go from bright blue to black velvet.

Buffy abruptly sighed and put her head down on Angel's shoulder. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"A little. You?"

"Yeah, a little." Angel looked around the night-shrouded forest. "We probably shouldn't stay here. We should look for more shelter."

"You're probably right," Buffy said with another sigh. Then they both tensed as a long, hair-raising cry echoed through the trees.

"Aw…crap."

*****

She could barely contain her excitement. Her essence kept dissipating, re-forming, and dispersing again as colors flashed around her. "They passed the first test!" she exclaimed in glee. "I told you they were ready!"

"I never doubted you," he replied smoothly, reacting much calmer to the mortal champions' victory. "But now they must face the second test."

She coalesced yet again, becoming almost solid. Her aura was rosy and golden, a far cry from the stormy anger she had entertained not long ago. "They will do well," she said firmly. "I would not have initiated the Tribulation if I hadn't thought they could complete it." She became suddenly pensive. "Do you think the Others have noticed anything?" she asked almost anxiously.

"I have taken great care to ensure their attention is elsewhere," he assured her. "They will not see what we are doing until the Tribulation is over and then they will have no choice but to comply." He paused for a moment. "We are going to be in so much trouble," he said mournfully.

"Not if this works," she replied dismissively.

He diminished slightly, as if wilting, and made as if to sigh. "Oh yes," he muttered to himself. "This is going to go so well."


	7. Chapter 7

They had no time to prepare before the first attack came. Buffy could barely make out the shape of the demons by the faint starlight, but it wasn't pleasant. In body they were similar to dogs, but twice the size and covered in spiky, triangle scales. They had long talons set in bird-like feet, with a curved killing-claw set halfway up their forearm.

At first Angel and Buffy ran, trying to outdistance the relentless creatures, but no matter which direction they fled in, the demons always found them. They hunted in twos and threes, surrounding their prey to bring it down.

Finally Buffy and Angel could run no more and they turned to face the demons. Angel snatched the first demon hound out of the air mid-leap and snapped its spine, tossing the body aside. The second lunged for Buffy, and she caught it around the neck to prevent it from sinking its teeth in her throat. It struggled wildly in her grasp, its fist-sized eyes inches from hers, but she held on, squeezing with all her strength until it finally went limp.

"Buffy, over here!" Angel called, and Buffy ran towards his voice. There was an odd lump of stone rising from the trees, and carved out of one side was a shallow cave. "They will only be able to come at us one way, now," Angel told her.

The next group found them minutes later, crowding the mouth of the cave to get at the vampire and the Slayer. Buffy cried out in pain when one slashed her across the stomach. The smell of blood drove the beasts wild. The immediately abandoned Angel and attacked Buffy, driving her back and attempting to tear her to pieces. Buffy desperately tried to fend them off, but every time she turned, a new wound appeared on her already battered body. With blood streaming from a dozen injuries, she dropped to one knee, already feeling faint and light-headed.

One of the demon hounds was poised to end it, teeth scraping her throat, when it disappeared with a strangled yelp. In its place stood Angel, his tattered shirt gone to reveal long scratches across his chest. He tore into the remaining hounds with a fury, like Angelus unchained.

Buffy watched him in utter shock. She had thought she had seen him fight before, but it had been nothing like this. Everything he touched was destroyed, and though the beasts kept coming, he never flagged or grew weary. She saw him grab a hound's head in his hands and rip the lower jaw away, spraying warm, red blood across his twisted, monstrous features.

It frightened her.

She staggered to her feet, the bleeding stopped by her Slayer healing, and moved to his side. He spared her a quick glance from burning yellow eyes and turned his attention back to fighting. Buffy had no idea how long that night lasted; it was a blur of pain and blood.

When the first rays of sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves, the hounds disappeared, leaving Buffy and Angel blinking in the growing light. Buffy's knees abruptly gave out and she sat down hard. Angel was instantly at her side, his arm around her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"You were right," she whispered. "We're still in hell."

*****

Willow sighed and laid her head atop her hands. At her elbow, her cappuccino continued to get colder, and a half-eaten muffin sat a few inches from her nose. Normally she enjoyed coming to the Bronze, especially in the summer, but not tonight. She sighed again, blowing crumbs across the table.

"Wow. And here I was thinking I'd have to sit alone."

She squeaked in surprise and shot up, her long hair flying in all directions. She had to smooth it back from her face before she could look at the person who had spoken to her. "Oh. Hi, Oz."

He smiled faintly and took the seat next to her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Willow propped her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. "I miss Buffy," she said. "I understand that she needs her space and all, but couldn't she call or something? I mean, we're still important to her, right? I'm still important? And Giles is so worried and even Xander is sulking and I can't stop thinking about her and—mmph!"

Oz had taken a very direct method of stopping her babble. When he released her from the kiss, he leaned back and gave her a steady look. "It'll be okay," he said quietly. "Buffy can take care of herself. She'll come back when she's ready."

"I know," Willow said. She swung her legs back and forth a few times, and then said, "What is she doing right now? What's she thinking about? Is she thinking about Angel? Is she sad? I don't know any of these things and she's not around to ask."

Oz slipped off his stool and took Willow's hand. "No, she's not. And worrying won't bring her back." He lifted and eyebrow and gave her his imperturbable smile. "So…dance with me?"

Willow hesitated a moment, and then got to her feet. "Oh, all right."

*****

When Buffy woke up, Angel was gone. She scrambled to her feet, feeling slightly panicked, and hurried to the mouth of the cave. "Angel? Angel!" She looked around but saw no sign of him. She stood in a patch of sunshine, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and chewed on her lower lip.

'Angel wouldn't leave me,' she assured herself. 'He's just gone exploring or something. And those demon hound thingies only attacked at night, so he's perfectly safe.' She sighed and dropped her arms, swinging them back and forth.

She glanced down at herself and grimaced. Her shirt was tattered and filthy, and her pants were stained in blood. Even her boots were scarred and scuffed. She reached up and tentatively felt her hair. It was tangled and dirt-encrusted. Heat flared in her cheeks. She must look awful!

At that moment, Angel appeared from the trees, carrying…a bucket? He walked carefully, but there was still water all down the side of his leather pants. He set the bucket down and looked at her. "How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Okay," Buffy replied. "Um…where'd you get that?" she asked, pointing at the bucket.

Angel turned and gestured over his shoulder. "Oh. There's a camp set up a few miles that way. It looks like whoever was there didn't last long against those demons. There were a few odds and ends I thought we could use." He faced her again. "There's a creek not far away, if you wanted to wash."

Buffy blushed again. "Do I look that bad?" she asked plaintively.

Angel looked startled, and then sheepish. "No, no, it's just that… Well actually, you do. The wounds are healing fine; I checked. But you must want to wash the dirt out of your hair."

"That would be nice," Buffy said enthusiastically.

"I'll show you the creek on my way back to the camp," Angel offered. He glanced up at the sky. "The days here must be short. It's only been three hours and it's already past midday." He beckoned her to follow him and started walking. "We need to be prepared for the demons again tonight."

Buffy nodded. They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Buffy sighed explosively. "I can't take it any more!" she exclaimed. "How did we get here? Why are we here? Who were those people in the other place? What is going on?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't understand what's going on any more than you do. But we were brought here, I know that much. Someone took us out of Acathla's hell and put us here. Why? I have no idea. My focus right now is to survive tonight and maybe get some answers tomorrow."

Buffy's anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. "Yeah," she said softly. "I guess you're right."

*****

"The Slayer is hardly passive, is she?" he noted. "Yet she trusts him implicitly."

"He has earned it," she retorted. She drifted closer to get a better view. "They survived the first night. Only ninety-nine more to go."

"I never did like this test," he said with a faint sigh.

"Their endurance and determination must be evaluated. We must know if they will persevere, or give up and die."

"Not to mention their own relationship," he pointed out.

She mused over that for a few moments. "Yes," she said at length. "Somehow I think that will be more trying than the wolves of Hades. This time will either bring them together, or tear them irrevocably apart."


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy made her way back from the creek feeling a little cleaner and a lot better. Angel had been right, her injuries were healing normally. She found him sitting beside a small fire. Balanced precariously over the cheery blaze was a dented metal pot. Angel looked up as she approached. He was wearing a different shirt, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows.

"It'll be ready in a little while," he said, indicating the pot.

Buffy sniffed, recognizing the smell of boiling meat. "What is it?" she asked curiously. Angel gave her a strange look.

"Probably better you don't know," he replied. He got to his feet. "The camp was pretty well stocked. Whoever was there most likely didn't come straight from a hell dimension. Here, you can change your shirt if you want to." After digging through the small pile in the mouth of the cave, he handed her a wad of fabric. Buffy shook it out to reveal a long-sleeved tunic of simple but serviceable make.

"Thanks," she said. "I'll be careful with it tonight." She retreated into the cave to change. By the time she came back out, Angel had taken the pot off the flames and set it aside to cool. She sat down beside him, realizing for the first time that she was famished.

"Have you eaten?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he replied shortly, unwilling to elaborate. He handed her a spoon. "Don't skimp yourself. You need to be at full strength if those demon hounds come back."

She dipped her spoon into the broth and fished out a chunk of meat. It tasted strangely metallic, but she was hungry, so she devoured every drop of the stew. As she was finishing, she glanced up at the sky and noted that the sun was dropping toward the horizon. "Were there any weapons at the camp, by any chance?" she asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Angel reached behind him and showed her two long, bone-handled knives. "They were all I could find. Do you know how to use one?"

She carefully took one from him. "Giles made sure I could use as wide a variety of weapons as possible." She looked at the knife broodingly for a few seconds. "Lucky for us you found the camp, huh?"

"Yeah. It's almost as if someone's looking out for us," Angel replied a little dryly.

Buffy gave a strangled laugh. "Well, they suck at their job," she said bitterly. She flinched as a demon hound howled in the distance. "Well, sounds like it's time to get to work."

The fire seemed to be a great deterrent for the demon hounds. Still, every once in a while one would work up the courage to jump over it or squeeze around it into the cave. Taken one by one, they quickly fell to the Slayer and the vampire, but the constant state of danger began to tell on them both and before sunrise they were exhausted.

As the first ray of light shone into the cave, Buffy's knees gave out. Angel slipped his arm around her shoulders and lowered her to the floor. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I want to go home," she whispered, tears pouring from her eyes. Angel wiped them away with his thumbs.

"I know," he murmured. "Shh, beloved. I know."

Neither remembered who made the first move, but the next moment they were kissing, hungry and passionate. Angel buried his fingers in Buffy's hair, drinking in her scent as she pressed her body against his...

With a strangled cry, he pushed her away from him. "No!" he said, holding out his hand to ward her back. He breathed deeply, trying to wash her scent from his nostrils. "We...we can't do this. We can't allow it."

"Can't take the risk," she agreed, her breathing heavy and uneven. "I, uh, I have to go..." She staggered to her feet and retreated from the cave, leaving Angel sitting with his head in his hands.

Buffy raged. She screamed. She paced along the creek's bank. She tore up the grass and attacked a tree. At this moment, her life sucked beyond belief. She was trapped in some strange demon dimension with the man she loved and they weren't allowed to touch, because it could lead to...other things. She closed her eyes and ground her fists against them until she saw stars.

"If anyone can hear me," she whispered. "If there's anyone who cares at all, get us out of here. Please."

Of course there was no answer.

*****

Angel was still at the cave when she returned an hour later. He stared into the fire and didn't look up when she walked into the small clearing.

"You're bleeding," he said softly.

Buffy hid her hands behind her back. "I...I punched a tree," she replied weakly.

"Hmm," was all he said. "Are you hungry?"

"A little, yeah," Buffy said. Angel rolled to his feet in one graceful motion.

"Wait here. I'll get you something to eat."

"Angel, you don't have to take care of me like this," Buffy began, but he interrupted her.

"We take care of each other," he said. "It's the only way we'll survive." With that he turned and walked away into the trees. Buffy sat down beside the fire and started to cry.

Angel was angry.

He should never have let down his guard. Even just kissing Buffy was dangerous. He would never, ever let the demon out again. He should have known the temptation would be there. If they were back on Earth, then he would have removed himself from Buffy. It would be a hard decision, but one he could make for her sake. But here, here they would die if they separated. They would have to be extremely careful in the future.

He was so deep in thought that he almost ran smack into the fruit tree he had discovered earlier. He wasn't sure what kind of fruit it was, but one of the advantages of a vampire's hypersensitivity was the ability to taste poisons. He knew the fruit was safe for Buffy to eat.

He realized that he had forgotten to bring anything to carry the fruit in and shrugged out of his shirt, tying off the sleeves to make a rough bag. He filled it as quickly as possible and headed back to the camp. With any luck, Buffy would have fallen asleep and he could slip away again to feed. There were plenty of small animals in the forest whose blood was palatable.

'I really am an idiot,' he thought savagely as he made his way back to the cave. 'I can't believe I thought I could help Buffy. All I've done is ruin her life and now I've dragged her to hell. Nice going, Liam.'

As he had hoped, Buffy was asleep, tears still wet on her face. Angel put the fruit on the ground beside her, put on his shirt, and slipped back into the trees to hunt.


	9. Chapter 9

Buffy woke up for the thirtieth time to the sound of the wind in the trees. As usual, Angel was already gone. The vampire needed much less sleep than he did. She lay still for a moment on her pallet of blanket-covered tree branches and stared at the ceiling of the cave.

"This is starting to get really old," she muttered under her breath. She sat up and combed her fingers through her hair. Out of desperation and frustration, she had used one of the knives to cut her thick hair off at the shoulders. She kept it tied back most of the time out of practicality.

She walked to the mouth of the cave and looked up at the sky. It was nearly midday, but the days here lasted only eight hours. She drank from the bucket of water and picked up the empty one. As long as the fruit tree bore fruit, Buffy was going to take advantage of it. She had no idea how long it would last.

Angel hadn't returned by the time she got back to the cave. That wasn't all that unusual. They spent as much time apart as they could. It helped, a little. Buffy found that her appetite had fled at the thought of her companion, but she forced herself to eat, anyway.

She frowned when she noticed a slick of red blood on the grass nearby. The nightly attacks by the demon hounds tended to be messy, but she and Angel were pretty good about cleaning up afterward. They must have missed a spot. She turned away from the gore and continued to eat resolutely. She had to save up her strength.

*****

He didn't like to admit it, but he was being a coward. Angel sighed and threw another rock into the creek. It disappeared under the water with a wet plop. One day he was going to have to actually hold a real conversation with Buffy. He couldn't avoid her forever. But the thought of confronting her made him cringe. There was too much between them for any sort of meeting to go smoothly.

She resented him. He could see it in her eyes when he showed up at nightfall to get ready for the attacks. The way she looked at him wistfully sometimes and angrily others. How she refused to speak more than necessary and even then it tended to be monosyllable.

She had every right to hate him, Angel knew. After all, it was his fault she had been tortured in hell for God knew how long. Months, years...eternity. And now they were trapped here in this twisted, strange world. Because of him.

Angel shuddered. No, he had no desire whatsoever to talk to her about it. Maybe it was best if they continued to avoid each other. On the other hand, they would never find a way out like this. He sighed again and reached for another rock.

*****

Giles hung up the phone and took off his glasses. Another lead turned into a dead end. School started in a matter of weeks, and time was running out. They couldn't pretend that Buffy wasn't missing much longer. Sooner or later, the Council was going to find out the Slayer was gone and demand an answer. Giles had none to give. And if the Council could find out where Buffy was, there was no guarantee Giles could avoid being dismissed. Not that he was concerned about his job, but he didn't trust Buffy's safety to anyone else.

He rubbed his face and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. After a moment's hesitation, he splashed a generous amount of brandy into the fragrant liquid. As he lowered himself into his armchair, her realized with some surprise that he was lonely. Xander, Cordelia, Willow, and Oz hadn't visited him in days. In fact, from what he could tell, the respective couples weren't interacting much at all. It was as if their gatherings only served to remind them what they had lost.

Giles mused over the revelation for a moment. Before he became Buffy's Watcher, he could say with certainty that he had had no desire for the company of children, especially teenagers. Buffy and her friends had changed all that. There was something about their energy, their optimism, their indomitable hope, that made his job a little less burdensome. He sipped his tea and sighed. Life had become so complicated since Buffy.

*****

"It's ironic, really," Buffy said between gritted teeth.

"What is?" Angel asked tersely.

"Here we are, you know. What is this place? Hell? Didn't know you could bleed to death in hell."

"You're not going to bleed to death," Angel said viciously. He reached out with a blood-covered hand and grabbed her wrist. "Here. Keep pressure there."

Buffy tried not to look at the deep tear in her thigh and applied pressure where he told her too. The pain was a distant ache, her entire leg numb from the hip down. "How much do you know about first aide?" Buffy asked.

"More than most paramedics," Angel replied. Whatever he was doing inside of Buffy's leg, she really didn't want to know.

She shouldn't have let her guard down. She had thought that, after over two months, she had gotten the hang of the demons. Apparently, she was wrong. It only took one mistake for something really bad to happen. A sudden stab of intense pain made her gasp, and she had to fight to stay still.

"Sorry," Angel muttered. "This really ought to be sutured, but I'm not going to attempt that without a sterile environment. Besides, I don't have a needle." He had already torn up one of the blankets to make bandages and began wrapping the wound. "You'll have to be extremely careful," he instructed. "Stay off it. No exceptions. Leave the fighting to me from now on, do you understand?"

"Yes," Buffy said tersely. There was another lance of pain and she cried out involuntarily, jerking away from Angel's gentle hands. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm going to be a liability—"

"You're never a liability," Angel interrupted . "Stop talking." He finished bandaging the wound. "You probably should rest. The shock is going to wear off soon."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. The numbness was starting to recede and the ache was growing more persistent. She really, really wanted to be unconscious. "This is gonna hurt bad."

"I'm afraid so." Without warning, Angel gathered her in his arms and began to carry her toward the cave. On instinct, she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. She held herself stiffly, but couldn't stop the thrill that ran down her spine at being so close to him. She cursed her traitorous body and made sure to keep her face turned away so Angel couldn't see her expression.

He set her down on her pallet as gently as he could but the slight impact made tears start in her eyes. She couldn't remember anything hurting this bad. Angel spread the blanket over her and got back to his feet.

"Where are you going?" she demanded sharply, forcing her mind to work despite the pain.

"It would be better if I didn't stay," Angel replied softly, turning towards the mouth of the cave.

"Don't you dare leave me, Angel," Buffy said, glaring up at him. "You walk away and I swear I will hate you forever."

Angel looked down at her with a tortured look in his brown eyes. "Buffy, I can't—we can't—it's for the best."

Buffy abruptly lost what little strength she had. "Angel, please don't go," she begged, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I need you."

He knelt beside her, cupping her face in one hand. "I'm here," he whispered, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "It's going to be okay. I'm here."

"It hurts," she said, her lower lip trembling.

"I know. Try to stay still, okay?" He stroked her hair. "I'm sorry I can't make the pain go away."

"We're such idiots," Buffy said with a grim, soundless laugh.

"Why's that?" Angel asked, frowning slightly.

"We tell ourselves that we can't be together...that it isn't safe..." Buffy was clearly having to concentrate to overcome the pain. "But in the end...there's only us. It's all we have. We can be careful, but we have to be together. We can't not." She blinked, her eyes having trouble focusing on his face. "I love you, Angel." She smiled tremulously. "Right here, right now, I love you. And I always will."

He smiled back, his eyes stinging. "I love you, too, Buffy. Forever. Only you."

*****

"So the lovers reunite," he said, observing both the mortals and his companion. "It would have been...inconvenient had they persisted in that separation."

"Yes. We would have had to come up with a way to get them back together." She mused for a few moments. "Are the preparations for the third task almost completed?"

"The last pieces are moving into place," he replied. "It will be done in time."

"Good." Her aura was subdued and thoughtful. "This will require the most delicate of manoeuvrings. We can't afford to let anything go wrong. And if they fail..."

"I know," he said, his essence betraying his agitation. "Should they fail and the Endless be lost, then we will have more than the displeasure of the Others to worry about." He turned to his companion. "This had better be worth it."

"It will be," she promised. "Wait and see. It will be."


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy's leg healed relatively quickly. Within a few days she could stand, and a few days after that she was fighting again. But the injury left a thick, ropy scar on her thigh and she couldn't seem to shake the limp. Her and Angel's relationship had healed in a similar manner. On the surface it was as if nothing was wrong, but deep down they both carried scars they'd rather not talk about.

She woke up with Angel still beside her and smiled faintly. There was so little in their lives worth smiling about. He was already awake, probably had been for hours, and was just watching her with his pensive brown eyes. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. "What time is it?"

"Almost time to get up." He ran his fingers along her forehead, smoothing her unevenly-cut hair out of her eyes. "Guess what."

"What?"

"This is the one hundredth time we've woken up in this dimension."

Buffy's attention narrowed. "Really? A hundred already?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied. "We've survived ninety-nine nights. Think we can handle one more?"

Buffy grunted and sat up, combing her fingers through her hair. "We'll survive as many as we have to in order to find a way out of here," she told him grimly. Angel nodded in agreement.

"Eat something and we'll take a few hours to look for something," he told her. They had begun exploring the forest a few weeks before, searching for anything that might hint at a way home.

Buffy quickly ate two the the chewy, tasteless strips of dried meat they had managed to preserve (after countless failed attempts) and used water from one of the buckets to wash her face and comb out her hair. "I'm ready now. Let's go."

*****

Xander stood on the sidewalk, looking up the concrete stairs that led to the high school door. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his skateboard leaning against his leg. He could remember with perfect clarity the first time he had seen Buffy, in this exact spot, and how he had hurried to inform his friends how hot the new girl was. How last year, he had stood here again on the first day of school, accompanied by Buffy and Willow, ready to take on the new year and whatever evils came their way. Now he stood by himself as the other students flowed past on either side of him. He looked at them in contempt. They were like sheep, with no idea of the dangerous world they lived in. But Xander knew. And he knew something else, besides.

Buffy wasn't coming back.

Willow didn't see it. She still talked about what she'd do when she saw Buffy again, the things she'd tell her. Giles didn't see it either. He never stopped looking for her, following whatever lead he got, no matter how weak. Only Xander knew it, deep in his gut, that he was never going to see his friend again.

Xander wasn't shocked or even particularly surprised. Bitter, to be sure. But it was only to be expected. After all, every good thing in Xander Harris' life eventually went away. His grandparents,the only ones in his family who actually cared about him; Jesse, his best friend until the vampires got their hands on him; and now Buffy. It was only a matter of time before Willow left, too. And with Oz in the picture, the wheels were already in motion for that loss.

"Xander! There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?"

He blinked and turned slightly confused eyes to Cordelia, who was converging on him like a cat stalking a bird. "Oh...uh, hi, Cordy."

"Do you honestly expect me to walk to my first class by myself?" she demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the doors. "Seriously, don't you know anything about being a decent boyfriend?"

And life went on. Xander Harris had learned never to look back.

*****

Buffy hadn't noticed it, and even if she had she wouldn't have cared, but she had changed. Drastically. She was harder, tougher, and much more brutal than she had ever been. She slammed her knife in the demon hound's neck with savage efficiency and twisted to open the wound. She didn't even bother to watch the creature die; she was already dealing with the next one.

The bodies were starting to pile up. The hounds were particularly insistent tonight; Buffy couldn't remember the attacks being this intense since their first night. She could see Angel out of the corner of her eyes but couldn't spare him a glance as they worked together to fend off the enemy.

Two of the hounds lunged for Buffy at the same time. She dodged on and grabbed the other, dodging it's deadly talons as she swung it around between her and the other hound. The free hound tore at its companion, trying to get at Buffy. All she had to do was hold the creature until it stopped moving. Then she tossed the body aside and drove her knife through the other beast's eye.

She was blindsided by yet another hound and knocked off her feet. She narrowly missed the fire and rolled up into a crouch. The hound growled as it stalked toward her, talons scraping the stone floor. It lunged toward her, mouth wide open. Buffy reached down, snatched up a burning stick, and shoved it down the creature's throat. Its howl of pain turned into a gurgle as it thrashed about. Buffy backed away out of range of its claws and waited for the thing to die. It took a few minutes.

"I think that's all of them," Angel said, startling Buffy. She looked up, seeing all the bodies scattered around them, and then out at the horizon. Sure enough, the sky was turning from black to royal blue, the clouds edged in gold.

"About time," Buffy said. "Was it just me, or was that worse than usual?"

"It was pretty bad," Angel agreed. He slipped his knife into his belt and inspected a tear in his shirt. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly," Buffy replied, flexing her hand. It was reddened and blistered from the fire, but it wasn't anything Angel needed to worry about. "Guess we'd better start cleaning up." She reached down to ind a hold on the hound's scaly, spiny body as the glowing edge of the sun cleared the horizon. Bright sunlight filled the cave, and when it faded, all that was left were the corpses.

*****

"I told you. Didn't I tell you? I was right. I'm always right!" There was no dimming the smugness permeating the female's essence. Her companion gave a long-suffering sigh and didn't bother trying.

"Yes, you did tell me," he said. "And so they've passed the second test. But the third is the hardest and the most difficult. Many others have failed."

"Not them," she said decisively. "There's too much riding on their success. They cannot fail."

"If they do, we must have a contingency plan to preserve the Endless," he told her. "I could summon the Iníon Llyr. She would help us."

"She is worlds away dealing with her own problems," she said dismissively. "Besides, what use is a sea goddess in the Labyrinth?"

"Well, then, what about the bean-sidhe or the Aelfir? I'm sure even the Rage Child would help under these circumstances."

"No, no, and no."

"We must be prepared in case they—"

"They will not fail," she interrupted sharply. "I will not allow it!"


	11. Chapter 11

They found themselves in a stone chamber, like a church without the crosses. Angel and Buffy exchanged a look. "Now where are we?" Buffy asked wearily.

Angel shook his head. "I have no idea." He ran his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. "Why now?" he murmured. "Why did we come to this place at this time? What is the significance?"

There was a loud knock on the door and they both swung around, yanking their knives from their belts. They exchanged another look and Buffy walked toward the door. She eyed it warily for a moment, and then took hold of the handle. She pulled it inwards and stepped back, raising her knife threateningly.

Both she and Angel froze, blinking in surprise.

The man wore a brown suit complete with a matching duster. His hair was in disarray but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he wore a cheery grin and waved at the two. "Hello. So you're the new sitters, then. Not quite what I expected, though. Looks like you've had a bit of a rough night, eh?" He spoke with a British accent, but it didn't sound anything like Giles'. The stranger looked from Buffy to Angel and back. "Oh. Sorry. Was that rude? Because I'm a very rude person, I'm told. Well, I'm here to hand her over. She's your responsibility now. You'll get her home safely, won't you? I'd hate to think anything bad's happened to her." With that he urged the child at his side forward, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

"There, there, Phoebe. Don't be frightened. They're going to take care of you, now. Off you go."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Am I going home now?" she asked timidly.

"That you are," the man replied. "Safe and sound, just like they promised. Be a good girl, all right?"

Phoebe nodded and wiggled her fingers at the man. He waved back. "Well, I'm off. Good luck!" With that he turned and walked away. Buffy tore her eyes from the child and looked through the door, but the man was already gone.

"That...was strange," Angel said slowly.

"Tell me about it," Buffy muttered. She looked back at the little girl. "Your name is Phoebe?" She nodded. Her dirty blonde hair was done up in a messy ponytail and her blue eyes seemed too large for her face. Buffy guessed her to be between eight and ten years old.

"Phoebe," Buffy crouched to get on eye-level with the girl. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Phoebe nodded, her bangs falling over her eyes. She lifted a hand to brush them away. "The beginning of the Labyrinth," she said. "My home is on the other side. Are you going to take me home?"

Buffy looked questioningly at Angel, who only shrugged. "Who was the man who brought you here?" Buffy asked the girl.

"He was to take care of me, and to bring me here. He said there'd be others to take me through the Labyrinth," the girl explained. "I can't go through by myself."

"Why are you so far from home?" Angel asked. Phoebe turned her plaintive gaze to the vampire.

"A thing needed doing, and only I can do it," she said cryptically. "Can we go home now?"

Buffy got to her feet and crossed over to Angel. "Am I the only one getting really weird vibes from this?" she whispered.

"No, but she's just a little girl," he whispered back. "Until we figure out where we are and what to do about it, the least we could do is get her home."

"Yeah, but what is this Labyrinth she mentioned?" Buffy asked. "Sounds creepy."

Angel shrugged. "So was Acathla's hell. She has no one else to watch over her, Buffy."

"Someone knew we were going to be here," Buffy said with a frown.

"Or someone brought us here," Angel replied. "There are powers greater than we know, and somehow I have the feeling that we're following some sort of direction."

"Yeah," Buffy said slowly. She turned to look at Phoebe, who was staring back at them. "So, Phoebe. Do you know the way home?"

*****

The road was wide and well-marked, even when they left the hill country and headed up the mountainside. Phoebe was quiet and uncomplaining, though she did accept Angel's offer to carry her on his back after a few hours. She clung to the vampire even after she fell asleep, giving Angel and Buffy a chance to talk privately.

"So you think that someone's been pulling the strings ever since Acathla's hell?" Buffy asked.

Angel nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Think about it. We were in that place for months, maybe even longer. Then we just happen to stumble across the only other people in the whole dimension. And just as soon as we finish helping them, we end up somewhere else. Then, after exactly one hundred days, we're here, just in time to pick up Phoebe and take her home."

"You're right," Buffy said thoughtfully. "It does sound way to scripted to be coincidence."

"I thought you didn't believe in coincidences," Angel reminded her with a small smile.

"Or leprechauns," she said, smiling back. "So, the puppet masters. Good or evil?"

"I don't think they're either," Angel said, shaking his head. "But they seem to be using us for their own ends." He sighed. "I only hope they plan on taking us out of here. Maybe even get us home."

"It's not like we have any other ideas," Buffy agreed. She checked on Phoebe, making sure the girl was still sleeping. "I wonder who she is, and what it was she needed to do."

"Maybe we'll find out," Angel said, stepping over a patch of gravel on the road. "I'm probably going to regret saying this, but if this is the Labyrinth, it's not that bad."

Buffy shot him a dark look. "Great. Now, just because you said that, it's going to get interesting, and in the not good variety."

He looked sheepish. "Yeah, probably.


	12. Chapter 12

The station house, as Phoebe had called it, was not large, but extremely comfortable. Angel and Buffy stood in the sitting room, ankle-deep in luxurious carpet, and blinked dazedly around them.

"It's the first station house in the Labyrinth," Phoebe explained, already curled up in front of the cold fireplace. "We can get supplies here for the first part of the journey."

Angel put his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Why don't you get the fire started. I'll see what I can come up with for dinner."

"Sounds good," she replied. She knelt on the hearth and opened the tinderbox. Shouldn't be too hard, right? "So, Phoebe, are there a lot of station houses?"

"All throughout Crossroads," she replied. "That's what this dimension is called. It's an in-between place, where several dimensions come together. The station houses are for travelers, like us."

"Do you come from Crossroads?" Buffy asked, setting the tinder underneath the arranged logs.

"No," Phoebe said flatly, her expression shuttered.

Buffy struck the flint and steel together and breathed gently on the resulting sparks. It took her a few tries but she managed to get a flame going. "Why do you need to go through the Labyrinth?"

"It's the only way to my home." Phoebe kicked off her shoes and stared into the fire. "I haven't seen my mother in years."

"Me, neither," Buffy said softly. She lowered her head, suddenly lost in her own thoughts.

"You're going home, too," Phoebe said earnestly. Buffy lifted her eyes to meet the girl's. "You're just taking the long way around."

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "I wish I could believe that."

*****

Buffy couldn't sleep. The bed was too big, too soft, and too empty. After thrashing around for a few hours, she finally gave up and slipped out into the hall. Angel was still and quiet in his own bed until she leaned over him to see if he was asleep.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I can't sleep," she replied. "Can I...?"

"Sure." Angel moved over, allowing Buffy to slip in beside him. She immediately snuggled against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "Better?"

"A little."

They lay in silence, the only noise Buffy's quiet breathing. Just as she began to relax, a thought slipped unannounced into her head, jerking her awake.

"What is it?" Angel whispered, sensing her tension.

"Angel...how long were we in Acathla's hell?" Buffy asked. A tear slipped over her eyelashes, tracing a warm track down her cheek.

"I don't know," he replied. "Years? It felt like forever."

"What if it was?" Buffy said hesitantly. "What if it's been hundreds of years, and Mom and Willow and the others... What if they're all gone?"

Angel groaned faintly. That thought had never even crossed his mind. "I don't know," he said, holding her tighter. "I'm so sorry, Buffy."

Another tear followed the first, but Buffy found that she had little emotion to spare on weeping. She shut her eyes tightly, buried her face in Angel's shirt, and forced herself to go to sleep.

*****

They left the station house early the next morning, Buffy and Angel carrying large backpacks of supplies. Phoebe pointed out the trail head and they set off. The path now wasn't nearly as well-kept, and often crumbled underfoot. Phoebe clung to Buffy's hand as if her life depended on it.

"So, Phoebe," Buffy said after a long silence. "What do you like to do when you're not traveling?"

"I read a lot," Phoebe replied. "Mother has a huge library. There's all sorts of books. Sometimes we spend the whole day there."

"I knew someone you'd like," Buffy replied. Angel winced slightly at the past tense.

"Where do you live?" Angel asked. "What dimension?"

"It's called the Shrine," the girl said. "A religious haven. Mother is the temple priestess. There are a lot of acolytes and residents. It's like having a large, extended family. I like it there."

"It sounds nice," Angel murmured. He wasn't sure how welcome he was going to be in a religious institution, being a vampire and all.

"But there are demons there," Phoebe said, looking up at him with a earnest expression. "The Shrine welcomes followers of all faiths."

"Oh," Angel said, startled. He hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. Buffy gave him a weird look, but didn't say anything.

"What can you tell us about the Labyrinth, Phoebe?" Buffy asked.

"It's long," Phoebe replied promptly. "It takes several months to pass through."

"Months?" Buffy echoed in disbelief.

"There's six station houses in the Labyrinth," Phoebe assured her. "We'll have plenty of food."

"But months," Buffy said again, wrinkling her nose. She glared at Angel, who only shrugged. "What else?" she asked the girl with a sigh.

"Parts of it is underground," Phoebe said. "I don't like those parts all that much. And sometimes...things happen." Phoebe scratched her nose, looking a little uncomfortable. "That's why I can't go by myself."

"What kinds of things?" Angel asked.

Phoebe opened her mouth to reply and froze. Slowly, she lifted a hand to point. "Things like that," she said in a small voice.


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen:

Angel threw himself to the ground and rolled, seconds before the path crumbled under the great weight slamming into it. "Buffy!" he yelled, scanning the area for her. She reappeared, jumping up onto a boulder, and pointed behind her to indicate Phoebe was safe.

"Okay," she said in irritation, setting her hands on her hips. "The three headed dragon was whose idea now?"

The creature was the size of a school bus, black-scaled and red-eyed. Three heads darted in all directions, snapping and snarling and glaring at the Slayer and the vampire. Angel backed slowly away, trying to reach Buffy's side. He pulled his bone-handled knife free, acutely aware of how useless the tiny weapon was compared to the monster.

"Hey, you! Scaly butt!" Buffy waved her arms over her head to attract the dragon's attention. "Were you born like that or did your mother just not like you?"

With a roar, the middle head darted toward Buffy, who jumped down from the boulder at the last second. The dragon's snout impacted the boulder at uncomfortable speeds; it tossed its head angrily, droplets of blood flying from its nostrils.

Meanwhile, the other two heads menaced Angel, forcing him to clamber awkwardly up the mountainside, kicking out whenever one of the heads got too close. He yanked his arm back just in time to avoid the snapping teeth, and slashed down with his knife.

The blade sliced across the creature's snout, but didn't cause much damage except irritating the beast even more. Angel threw his arm up to protect his face and cried out in pain when sharp teeth buried themselves in his flesh.

He was yanked away from the mountain face, dangling in midair from the dragon's mouth. It shook its head back and forth, and Angel yelled again when he felt his bone break.

"Angel!" Buffy screamed. She bounded forward, dodging the other two heads, and launched herself into the air. She landed squarely on the dragon's shoulders and plunged her knife into the muscle at the base of its necks.

The dragon dropped Angel and he landed in a crumpled heap, unmoving. Buffy pulled her knife free and found herself confronted by all three heads. She froze for a second, unsure of what to do, and then she threw herself away from the dragon's body.

She tried to get back to where Angel lay, but the beast was too fast. It cornered her against the edge of the path, a sheer drop behind her. Blood trickled over the dragon's shoulders, and its red eyes were mad with pain and anger.

"Angel!" Buffy yelled, hoping to get a response.

Phoebe suddenly appeared at Angel's side, turning him over and peering intently into his face. "He's all right!" she called to Buffy. "Buffy! Don't let it bite you!"

"Wasn't planning on it!" Buffy yelled back, slightly annoyed.

"It's poisonous!" Phoebe said urgently. "Don't let it bite you!"

Buffy took another step backwards and her foot slipped over the edge. She stumbled forward on her hands and knees and threw herself to the side when one of the heads attacked. She scrambled to her feet and chose the only direction possible: forward. She trusted her Slayer reflexes and darted past the twining necks and menacing heads, trying to get back to her lover and the child.

She almost made it, but a heavy blow knocked her off her feet. She hit the ground hard and rolled, striking her head against a rock. Buffy lay there for a precious moment, the world blurring in and out of focus.

A black shape appeared in her vision and rapidly got larger, opening to reveal double rows of sharp, white teeth. Then, at the last second, it jerked away, howling in pain. Buffy blinked hard, forcing her eyes back into working order. The dragon flailed wildly, keening horribly as it sprayed black blood from the arrow-wound in the middle head's neck.

A lithe figure appeared out of the stones, a bow in one hand. It raised it again and loosed another arrow, this one striking the monster square in the middle of its chest. It reared back with a deafening bellow and its hind legs slipped over the edge of the path. The rest of its body followed ponderously, until it finally disappeared out of sight.

Buffy groaned and tried to sit up. The newcomer knelt beside her, placing a hand under her back to help her. A brown face stamped with a concerned expression peered down at her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Buffy reached up to feel the back of her head. It came away sticky and red. "Sort of," she mumbled. She got shakily to her feet and wobbled over to Angel and Phoebe.

Angel was awake, holding his broken and mangled arm across his chest. "Hey, Buffy," he said tightly.

"Does it hurt?" Buffy asked, trying to get a look at the wounds.

"A little," Angel replied. "Who's your friend?"

Buffy looked over her shoulder at the stranger. "Good question."

The stranger joined the other three, reaching into the bag at his side. "The dragon's bite is poisonous," he said gravely.

"We know," Buffy told him.

The stranger pulled out a wad of bandages and gently began wiping the blood from the wounds. "I'm afraid I don't have the antidote with me. If we hurry we might be able to make it to the station house in time."

"Won't be necessary," Angel said, his teeth clenched. "Poison can't kill me. Just reset the bone so it won't heal crooked."

The stranger gave Angel an odd look. "You are immune to poison?"

"No, just said it can't kill me," Angel corrected. "Set the bone."

The man studied Angel for a second, and then nodded, stretching Angel's arm across his knees. Buffy pulled Phoebe away and turned her head, gritting her teeth. There was a sickening snap and Angel cried out. When Buffy turned back, their new friend was wrapping Angel's arm in a splint.

"Thanks," Angel ground out. He looked even more pale than he normally did: deathly white with eyes like black holes.

"I only wish I had arrived sooner," the man said. "I could have prevented you from being harmed."

Buffy returned to Angel's side, shooting the man a dark look. "No offense or anything, and I do appreciate your help, but who the hell are you?"

"Oh, sorry." The man blinked. "I'm the Huntsman. I'm one of the groundskeepers for the Labyrinth."

Buffy looked over at Phoebe, who nodded. "There are many who wander the Labyrinth to help the ones passing through," she said. "I've never met him before, but there are a lot of them and I've only come though a few times."

"A regular traveler, eh?" the Huntsman asked, offering Phoebe a small smile. He looked back down at Angel.

"Are you sure there is nothing more I can do?"

"It's gonna take some time for the poison to work its way out of my system," Angel panted. He fumbled for Buffy's hand and nearly crushed her fingers. "All we can do is wait."

The Huntsman glanced at the sky. "It'll be dark soon. We'll have to set up camp here." He got to his feet. "I must go and get my supplies. I dropped them in my haste to your aide. I will return."

Buffy watched the man leave. Phoebe huddled in between her and Angel. "What are you thinking?" Angel asked quietly.

"James and Eleanor," Buffy murmured back. "We tend to attract strange people lately. I don't particularly trust him."

"He did help kill the dragon," Phoebe pointed out.

"We can worry about it later," Angel said. "Right now I think I'm gonna pass out."

And he promptly did.


	14. Chapter 14

Buffy eased her hand out of Angel's grip and flexed her fingers, trying to work feeling back into the crushed digits. She looked over at Phoebe, who was crouched next to Angel's head. The girl had a wad of clean bandages and wiped the sweat from Angel's face. Seeing that her lover was taken care of, Buffy got to her feet, knife at the ready, to await the Huntsman's return.

He reappeared a few minutes later, a large pack over one shoulder. He slowed to a halt at the sight of Buffy's defensive stance. "Is there something the matter?" he asked mildly.

"I haven't decided whether or not to trust you," Buffy replied bluntly.

The Huntsman lowered his pack to the ground and placed his unstrung bow on top. "That is understandable. However, I should hope my actions towards your defense would tip the scales in my favor."

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe. For now. But right now I need you, so that means I'm not going to beat you to a bloody pulp."

The Huntsman flashed her a very white smile. "That is...preferable," he said. "If you have no objections, I would like to build a fire and perhaps prepare a meal. No doubt your daughter is hungry."

Buffy and Phoebe exchanged a quick look. "She's not my daughter," Buffy said hastily as Phoebe pulled a face. The Huntsman coughed awkwardly.

"I apologize," he said. "I thought...well, obviously in error. How is your friend?"

"He's gonna be out for a while," Buffy admitted.

The Huntsman nodded as he began to build a fire ring. A small stack of firewood had appeared out of nowhere, and before long the archer had a small blaze going. He began to unpack his satchel, and after a moment, Buffy reached into her pack.

"Here," she said tersely, handing the man some of their supplies.

He didn't say anything as he took them, merely nodding thanks. Phoebe and Buffy switched places so the Slayer could be at Angel's side. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, which burned to the touch. Buffy frowned. Was it even possible for a vampire to get a fever?

"You may think me rude for asking this," the Huntsman finally broke the silence. "But what is your destination? Everyone who enters the Labyrinth is always on their way somewhere."

"Except you?" Buffy countered with a raised eyebrow.

"My duty is to remain here," the Huntsman explained with a shrug. He seemed to be making soup. Buffy had had a lot of soup over the last few months. She grimaced at the thought of more but then resigned herself.

Angel moaned faintly and stirred restlessly, a deep frown creasing his forehead. Buffy leaned over him instantly, clasping his searching hand and brushing the back of her fingers against his cheek.

"To my knowledge, no human has survived a dragon's bite without the antidote," the Huntsman observed.

Buffy's mouth tightened he was obviously fishing for information, and she was extremely reluctant to give any. "He's not human," she replied curtly.

The Huntsman accepted that with only a raised eyebrow. "Ah," he said, and went back to cooking.

Giles was quite at loss. He had a young woman in the library claiming to be the slayer who was most emphatically not Buffy. He peered out from the safety of his office. Faith was talking with Willow, Xander, and Oz while playing with a vicious-looking stake. He glanced away again, a stab of pain lancing through his chest.

What the children had clearly not remembered was that for a Slayer to be called, the former one must die. He removed his glasses and rubbed his face, surprised by the moisture he found on his cheeks. It was no wonder they had found no trace of Buffy, why there had been no leads during his extensive investigation.

A flash of anger made the blood rush to his face and he cursed Angelus under his breath. What had transpired inside that wretched mansion was now becoming clear. Buffy had managed to stop the demon's plan, but only at the greatest of prices.

Anger gone, Giles collapsed into his chair and struggled not to weep. He needed to be strong for the other young ones who relied on him. He needed to be able to offer them comfort when he broke the news.

He took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. During his education, he had been told to prepare for this. It was the inevitable fate for any Watcher assigned to the Slayer. But in all his ignorant and hopelessly naive daydreams, he had never imagined the relationship he would form with his ward.

Or the crippling, heartbreaking pain of losing her.

Managing to regain some semblance of control, he got to his feet and went to join the others, but froze as another, horrifying thought occurred to him.

He would have to tell her mother.

He was on fire. His body was burning. Any moment now it would consume him and he would be reduced to ashes and dust. Such an end to his life. So much darkness, so much light. So strong and yet, in the end, so fragile.

Yet he didn't die. He just kept burning. Through the flames he could see others, shadows. They watched him burn, whispering to each other and laughing, enjoying his pain. Over the sound of the hungry flames, he could hear a voice, speaking his name.

"Angel! Angel, stop, you're gonna hurt yourself."

In vain, Angel searched for her face among the shadows. He knew she was nearby. She would save him. Cracked lips parted. A hoarse rasp he barely recognized cried out, "Please...Buffy...the flames..."

"There's no fire," she said soothingly. "You're gonna be okay."

Angel struggled weakly, but he was bound in place. How could she say there was no fire? He could feel his skin burn, his flesh char, and his blood boil. It was all around him, inside him, feeding on him like a parasite.

"Buffy," he called again. "Please...water?"

She stepped out of the shadows, a bucket in her hand. Her face was void of expression as she sloshed the bucket's contents onto the fire. The flames sizzled and sent up billows of steam, but returned, hungry as ever.

He screamed.

Ice cold water splashed over his face, jerking him out of the nightmare. Buffy and Phoebe were leaning over him, the girl still clutching a wet cup. "It worked," Phoebe observed with satisfaction.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Buffy asked, wiping the water from Angel's face.

"Hot," he whispered.

"You've got a raging fever," Buffy told him. "I guess it's your vampire immune system fighting off the poison or something. But we had to wake you up. You were having a hell of a nightmare."

"Thanks," Angel said gratefully. "Can...can I have something to drink?" Normally he didn't experience thirst, only hunger, but his mouth felt like it was full of sand. Phoebe got up and returned a moment later, the cup refilled. Buffy helped Angel lift his head while Phoebe held the cup to his lips.

Buffy let him drink as much as he wanted, probably aware he wouldn't have an adverse reaction to it. When he was finished, he lay back and looked up at the two females. "Anything happen while I was out?"

"Not really," Buffy told him. "You've been asleep for almost two days. We've reached an understanding with the Huntsman, though." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "He claims it's his duty to help us through the Labyrinth, but he's agreed he won't ask too many questions."

"I will respect your privacy, have no fear," the Huntman said, though Angel couldn't see him. "Does he want something to eat? There's some broth left."

Buffy looked nervous. "Uh...that's not what he needs," she admitted. "He kinda needs something more fresh. And, uh, alive."

"You do not need to be embarrassed, Buffy," the Huntsman replied from wherever he was. "I have encountered many strange beings and many strange eating habits. Stay with him. I will see what I can do."

Angel heard footsteps retreating and relaxed, which surprised him. He hadn't even realized he was tense. Buffy looked back down at him.

"When he gets back, do you think you're up to eat something?"

"I'll manage," Angel said. He would recover better if he ate, so he'd find the strength somehow. Though he'd prefer that Phoebe didn't see...

The skitter of falling stone caught his attention. Buffy heard it at the same time and her head whipped up, her knife appearing in her hand. "What the hell?" she muttered. Angel struggled to sit up, forced to accept Phoebe's help.

Not ten paces from where they sat stood a huge wolf. It was easily five feet high and its shaggy fur was brindled gray and black. Apart from its size it was easy to see it was no ordinary animal. Its eyes glowed golden, openings to a vortex of some untold power. A strange symbol was stamped on its brow. It watched them silently with eerie intelligence.

"Angel," Buffy hissed. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to," he murmured back.

"When I give the signal, get Phoebe out of here," Buffy ordered.

The wolf raised its head, unearthly eyes focusing on Buffy. It opened its mouth, revealing double rows of wickedly sharp teeth. And then, it spoke. "You're in grave danger." Its voice was soft yet it vibrated with power. It was also incongruously female.

"What?" Buffy asked ingeniously.

"You've stumbled into the hunting grounds," the wolf continued. "If you act now, you might escape."

"Whose hunting grounds?" Angel asked. His voice was cracked and lacked volume, but the wolf seemed to have no trouble hearing him.

"You can't trust the hunter," she insisted. "He's not what he seems. You may think he's protecting you, but he's only stealing the dragon's prey."

Buffy stared at the wolf in confusion. "Who _are_ you?" she demanded.

The beast's ears pricked up and she almost seemed to smile. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked, humor in her voice. "I'm the big, Bad Wolf." And with that, she turned around and loped away, her tail swishing from side to side.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oooo-kay," Buffy drawled. "Anyone else think that was major freaky?"

"You weren't joking when you said you attracted strange things," Phoebe said quietly. Angel patted her shoulder.

"We weren't talking about you," he assured her. Then he looked at Buffy. "What's your take on this?"

Buffy tapped her lips. "Well, the Huntsman did save our bacon with the dragon, aaaand then there's the whole 'big, bad wolf' thing. Of course it—she?—wouldn't like the Huntsman."

"You know your life is seriously messed up when fairy tales start making cameo appearances," Angel said dryly. Buffy giggled.

"This coming from the _vampire_," she retorted.

He glared at her without heat for a moment. "I'm going to point out the fact that we don't know anything about either the Huntsman or the bad wolf. Trusting either of them would be a bad idea." He tried to gesture with his bad arm and gasped quietly at the pain.

Buffy immediately pushed him back down onto the pallet they had moved him onto while he had been unconscious. "You need to rest," she ordered. "I'll concede your point. We'll keep an eye on the Huntsman. One wrong move and he's toast. 'Kay?"

"Okay," Angel agreed.

Phoebe pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Buffy eyed the girl closely. "You all right, sweetie?"

The little girl didn't meet Buffy's gaze. "I—I just...I'm sorry," she blurted. Buffy frowned at her.

"Sorry for what, hon?"

"You're only in this position because I asked you to take me home," Phoebe explained. "You got hurt because of me," she told Angel. "I...I'm really sorry."

Angel reached out and took one of Phoebe's hands. "You can't blame yourself, little one," he told her gently. "You didn't force us to do anything. This was our decision."

"Besides," Buffy interjected. "Helping others? It's kinda what we do." She brushed Phoebe's hair back from her face. "Trust me, we've gotten ourselves into worse situations. As long as everyone's breathing—who're supposed to," she added, with a sly look at Angel, who made another face. "Everything's okay," she finished. "So, Miss Phoebe," she continued. "_I_ can get by on next to no sleep, but you're not me. Angel's awake, so you're gonna get some rest. That's an order. Go on."

Phoebe grumbled under her breath but nevertheless kicked off her shoes and crawled into Buffy's bedroll. "She refused to leave you," Buffy told Angel. "She stayed with you the whole time to take care of you."

Angel smiled faintly. "She's a good girl," he said sincerely.

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss her when we get her home," Buffy said offhandedly. Angel frowned at her, wondering what she meant, but Buffy didn't seem to notice.

The Huntsman returned a short while later, carrying some sort of creature over his shoulder. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to keep it alive," he said apologetically. "But it has only been dead an hour or so, and there are no external wounds."

"That should be fine, thanks," Angel said, once more struggling upright. He crawled out of the blankets and moved a few feet away from camp. Buffy carried the creature over to him. It looked almost like a deer, if a deer had six legs and spines down its back.

Checking to see that Phoebe was sound asleep. Angel vamped out and bit down on the creature's neck. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first taste of blood burst over his tongue. He drained the creature within minutes, feeling stronger with each passing second.

When he was done, he pushed the carcass away and wiped his mouth, returning to his human face. He looked up to find Buffy staring at him pensively. He scowled. "I hate it when you watch me," he muttered.

She only tilted her head. "I don't care, you know," she told him.

"Care about what?"

"That you're a vampire. Sometimes I forget. You're just Angel to me."

"I wish I could forget," Angel said sourly. She helped him to his feet and they returned to camp. The Huntsman was working on his arrows, each one set out on the ground in front of him. He looked up as they approached.

"I see you're feeling better," he said with a smile. "Perhaps we can continue our journey tomorrow, then."

"Perhaps," Buffy agreed.

Faith was proving extremely difficult to control. Giles rubbed his forehead wearily and turned his back on the girl. She was as stubborn as Buffy had ever been, but didn't have any of Buffy's willingness to compromise. But Faith was, for now at least, Giles' responsibility.

The revelation that Buffy was dead had finally reached the Council, and Giles had been assigned Faith's temporary Watcher until a permanent one could be procured. Personally Giles thought that it wasn't good for Faith, having lost her original one so recently, but since when had the Council ever listened to him?

Faith had, with the help of himself and the "Scoobies" as the other children insisted on calling themselves, managed to defeat Kakistos, but Giles knew this was only the beginning. He turned back to face Faith.

"While the outcome of last night's events were...satisfactory," he said delicately. "I would appreciate it if you don't insist on such secrecy in the future."

Faith shrugged fluidly. "Didn't see how it was any of your business," she shot back.

Giles slammed his hand down on the table, startling the Slayer. Dear Lord, had Buffy ever been this thick? "It was every bit my business," he growled, "When your foolish and selfish actions endanger other children who don't have the advantage of Slayer strength. You could have gotten Willow, Xander, and the others killed!"

"Hey, I didn't ask them to follow me!" Faith snapped, rearing up from her chair.

"No, but they will," Giles returned fiercely, getting right into Faith's face. "They are as dedicated as you are to this duty, if not more! Whether you want their help or not, you have it. Be sure you use it wisely." Giles turned away again to regain his temper. He had not meant to shout at her.

"Get your things," he ordered. "We're done for today."

"No matter how hard I try, it just keeps coming back to dark, scary caves, doesn't it?" Buffy said as they stood at the mouth of the cavern. Phoebe had mentioned that parts of the Labyrinth were underground, but Buffy had chosen to ignore that...until now. "There wouldn't happen to be a way around this, would there?"

The Huntsman shook his head. "I'm afraid not. The Labyrinth is the only way through the mountains. To stray from the path is suicide."

Buffy looked over at Phoebe, who shrugged uncomfortably. "No one who's attempted it has been heard from again," she said. "I'm really sorry, Buffy."

Angel moved to stand in front of her, curling his hands around her upper arms. "I can go through with them," he said softly. "You can wait here for me to come back. You don't have to go in there if you don't want to."

Buffy really, really didn't want to. She was pretty sure she now had a phobia about deep, dark caves. She would have loved to stay behind, except for that part of her brain that was yelling at her for even thinking about leaving Angel.

"No," she said, wishing her voice sounded stronger. "I can't let you go alone," she told Angel. "You need someone to watch your back." She dropped her voice as her eyes flicked to the Huntsman. "Especially since we don't trust him."

Angel studied her with dark eyes. "I wish I could promise nothing would happen to you," he said. "I wish I could say I'd protect you, but I haven't done a really good job of that lately."

Buffy frowned and put her hand over his mouth to silence him. "Don't say that," she ordered. "None of this is your fault."

He stared at her. "Buffy, I'm the one who—"

She pressed harder. "I thought we agreed to forget that," she said sternly. "Now, are we going to waste time or get this over with?" She swung her pack off her shoulders and began digging through it. Since Phoebe had warned them ahead of time, they'd come prepared. She pulled out two oil lanterns, thin sheets of horn where glass would normally be.

Once they'd managed to get the lanterns lit, they proceeded into the cavern, Phoebe clinging tightly to Buffy's hand. Angel took the other lantern and took the lead, the Huntsman at his side. As they walked deeper into the damp darkness, a shiver ran through Buffy's body.

"Are you all right?" Phoebe asked quietly. Buffy looked down at the girl. The lantern light reflected in Phoebe's blue eyes, making them look huge and ethereal.

"I'll be fine," Buffy said.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Phoebe pointed out. "Can't you tell me what's wrong?"

Buffy sighed and glanced around. The cavern was huge and stretched out in front of them farther than the faint light could reach. The floor was covered in colossal stalagmites except for the narrow path they were currently following. Water dripped nearby, echoing through the darkness.

"A long time ago, back on Earth," Buffy began. "I was someone called the Slayer. Ever hear of them?"

Phoebe frowned. "No. Is Earth the dimension you're from?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied. "Well, a Slayer is a girl who's been chosen to defend Earth from demons, vampires, and other nasties."

Phoebe's frown deepened. "But isn't Angel a vampire?" she asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

"Angel's different," Buffy explained. "He's a good guy. Most vampires aren't. Anyway, there was this really powerful vampire called the Master." Ahead of her, Buffy could see Angel's shoulder tense. The Huntsman was also listening to her story. "But my Watcher, Giles, he found a prophecy that said the Master was going to kill me."

Phoebe's frown vanished into an expression of horror. "What happened?" she asked.

To her surprise, Buffy found that the memory no longer pained or frightened her. It paled in comparison to what she had been through since being condemned to hell. "I went to the Master's lair. It was underground, in this big cave. And...he killed me." Buffy gave Phoebe a reassuring smile. "By drowning me. But Angel and one of my friends came after me, and they brought me back. I killed the Master and we all lived happily ever after. But ever since, I really don't like dark places all that much."

Phoebe tightened her hold on Buffy's hand. "Don't worry," she told Buffy seriously. "Angel and I'll take care of you."

Buffy's smile widened. "I know, honey. I know."


	16. Chapter 16

Angel checked the lantern fuel to make sure there was no danger of it going out. They had been underground for what felt like forever, though Phoebe had informed them it had only been two days. How she knew, Angel didn't bother asking. They had stopped three times to rest and eat.

Angel had absolutely no problem with being underground. In fact, a part of him enjoyed it. He was a vampire. This was where he thrived. But he worried about Buffy. It seemed like the longer they were in the tunnel, the quieter she got. Angel wasn't fooled by the brave face she wore for Phoebe; he knew that she was uncomfortable.

So when the Huntsman called for another stop, Angel set his lantern on a broken-off stalagmite and went over to his lover. She looked up as he approached. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "There's still a few bottles of blood left. You should probably try to take it easy, though. There's no telling how long we're gonna be down here."

"Buffy," he murmured, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She froze, her hazel eyes flicking up to meet his. "What?"

"How are you doing?"

She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her shadowed eyes. "I'm fine. Really."

He quickly brushed his lips across her forehead. "You don't need to lie to me," he told her gently.

Buffy looked away, her composure slipping. "What am I supposed to say, Angel?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "That I feel like crawling out of my skin? That I keep hearing things that aren't there? That I could swear I saw the Master a few hours ago? I can't afford to be weak right now. I hate it down here, yes. But I'm not gonna fall apart on you."

Angel reached up to touch her cheek. "All right. It's going to be okay, you know that, right?"

Phoebe crouched by Buffy's lantern, searching through her pack. She found her coat and shook it out before slipping it on.

"Are you cold, little one?" She jerked in alarm and almost lost her balance. She hadn't heard the Huntsman join her.

"Uh, yes, a little," she admitted. "I think we've gone even deeper. The air's starting to get older."

The Huntsman sniffed. "You are right, but it will be fine for now. It should only be a few more days."

"I really hate these parts," Phoebe muttered, rubbing her hands together. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers, but they had nothing to make a fire with.

"How many times have you passed through the Labyrinth before?" the Huntsman asked, peering down at her curiously.

Phoebe hesitated. Buffy had warned her about this...what had the older girl had said? Fishing for information. Buffy told her to be careful of what she said. "A few times," she replied vaguely.

"Do you live on the other side? Or are you heading somewhere else?" The Huntsman offered her a small loaf of bread stuffed with dried fruit.

"We're going home," Phoebe said shortly. "All of us." She took the proffered food and attempted to shove most of it in her mouth at once to forestall any more questions. Buffy and Angel rejoined them. Phoebe knew that they were all skimping themselves so that she had enough to eat. Once they made it to the surface again, they would be in desperate need of supplies. But they wouldn't run out. Phoebe would make sure of that.

XxxXxxX

She was waiting for him when he returned, her presence subdued and pensive. She was watching the mortals intently but was uncharacteristically still. As he joined her, she turned part of her attention away. "How was your trip?" she asked.

"The Revenant are as frustrating as always," he replied, reaching out cautiously to taste her aura. "But in the end they acquiesced."

"Your skills at negotiation are beyond compare," she replied mildly. "What of the Others?"

He flashed through a number of emotions. "They will be...occupied for a great while. Have no fear."

She instantly turned suspicious. "What have you done?" she demanded.

His presence colored with embarrassment. "I may have facilitated a...misunderstanding between the Others and the Ascended," he said sheepishly.

She gasped at first and then began to laugh. "When I asked you to divert their attention, I only meant for a little while, not centuries!"

"I will resolve it as soon as our work with the Slayer and the Vampire is concluded," he hurried to assure her. "I have already secured an ally in that matter."

"Good," she replied, amused. "Will you keep an eye on them for a while? I must be away."

"May I ask where?" he inquired, settling down in place.

"Earth," she told him. "The second Slayer is an unpredictable factor that must not be allowed to interfere with our plans."

"She was called by the Others, and they will be watching her," he warned.

She made as if to smile. "Yes, but they will not see me."

XxxXxxX

Sunnydale was not shaping up to be Faith's favorite place ever. Yeah, she got the gist of the whole Hellmouth thing Giles kept going off about, and how it was her sacred duty to protect it, yadda yadda, but the whole town was a drag. Giles was seriously hardcore and a major tight-ass about patrolling. She'd say he was as bad as all the other Watcher's she'd come in contact with, except for the whole civilian thing.

He insisted on getting the kids involved. Like she needed a bunch of whiners following her around and slowing her down. And it wasn't like they liked her all that much, anyway. With them it was always "Buffy used to" this and "Buffy did it like this" that. She'd never met the chick, but she was seriously starting to get sick of her.

Yeah, she knew this Buffy chick was dead and all, but that was the way of the Slayer. One down, another called. That's what those kids needed to realize, and then move on with their lives. Faith wasn't Buffy, and she wasn't gonna do things the way Buffy did.

That was why she had snuck out to patrol on her own, without anyone getting in the way. If Giles yelled at her about it later, who cared? He wasn't gonna be calling the shots for long, anyway. Not that Faith was looking forward to getting a new Watcher, but maybe the new one would be a little more...pliable. More willing to look at things from her perspective. And if they weren't, then Faith could be very convincing.

XxxXxxX

"...And we'll dance until the sun sends us all to sleep." Phoebe's voice faded into echoes and she looked up expectantly at Buffy.

"I liked that one," Buffy told her. Phoebe beamed and skipped for the next few steps. It had been her idea to distract themselves by singing, and she had eagerly shared several songs her mother had taught her. She had a high, piping voice, not strong but sweet, amplified by the passage's acoustics.

"Your turn, Angel!" Phoebe said eagerly, darting from Buffy's side to the vampire. She latched onto his arm and stared pleadingly up at him.

"Uh, no, I, uh, I don't sing," Angel stammered. Phoebe continued to peer at him with huge, blue eyes. Angel muttered under his breath and sighed. "Most of the songs of my country are very sad. They're about war and fighting and death. Are you sure you want to hear them?"

Phoebe abruptly sobered. "What is your country called?" she asked solemnly. Angel smiled briefly.

"Ireland. That's where I was born, a very long time ago."

"I want to hear a song from Ireland," Phoebe insisted, squeezing his arm gently. "Even if it's sad."

Angel nodded. "There's one that I always liked, but as I said, it's very sad." He cleared his throat and half-closed his eyes, as if calling something up from memory. Buffy found herself holding her breath in anticipation, wondering what glimpse she would get of his past. Even the Huntsman seemed to be waiting with interest.

Angel didn't sing. Instead, he chanted, his voice rolling in a strange yet melodious cadence through the dark tunnel. Buffy's mouth dropped open as she listened, completely mesmerized.

"I am stretched on your grave  
And I'll lie here forever.  
If you hands were in mine  
I'd be sure they would not sever.  
My apple tree, my brightness,  
It's time we were together  
For I smell by the Earth  
And I'm worn of the weather.

"When my family thinks  
That I'm safely in my bed  
Oh, from morn until night  
I am stretched out at your head.  
Calling out unto the earth  
With tears hot and wild  
For the loss of a girl  
That I loved as a child.

"Do you remember the night  
Oh, the night when we were lost  
In the shade of the blackthorn  
And the touch of the frost?  
Oh, and thanks be to Jesus  
We did all that was right  
And your maidenhead still  
Is your pillar of light.

"Oh, the priests and the friars  
They approach me in dread.  
Oh, for I love you still  
Oh, my life, and you're dead.  
I still will be your shelter  
Through rain and through storm  
And with you in your cold grave  
I cannot sleep warm.

"I am stretched on your grave  
And I'll lie here forever.  
If you hands were in mine  
I'd be sure they would not sever.  
My apple tree, my brightness,  
It's time we were together  
For I smell of the Earth  
And I'm worn by the weather."

Tears ran down Buffy's cheeks by the time he was done and she turned her head away quickly to wipe them away. Angel had an embarrassed expression on his face and his gaze was fixed firmly at the ground in front of him. Phoebe stared up at him, her eyes huge and wet.

"That was beautiful," she whispered. Angel coughed and looked away again.

"Yeah, well," he said awkwardly. They walked for a few minutes in silence until Angel suddenly jolted to a stop, dragging Phoebe to a halt beside him. He frowned deeply, lifting his lantern over his head in an attempt to illuminate the darkness in front of him. Buffy came up behind him, raising her own lantern.

A subterranean lake lapped at the stone at Angel's feet, the water ink-black and icy cold. The path continued through the lake, barely two feet wide and only a few inches above the surface of the water.

"Oh, hell," Buffy said flatly.

"You said it, not me," Angel shot back. He adjusted his pack of supplies and tightened the straps across his shoulders. "We'll only be able to go one at a time. Phoebe, I want you to hold onto my pack as tight as you can. Unless I fall, then let go. Got it?"

She nodded, casting a nervous look at the path in front of her. Angel turned to look at Buffy. "I want you right behind Phoebe. Hold onto her other hand." Angel's gaze moved behind Buffy and he froze, sweeping his dark eyes over the passage. He swore under his breath in Gaelic.

Buffy twisted to see what was the matter. The tunnel behind her was dark and empty. "Uh...Angel?" she said softly. "Where did the Huntsman go?"

Angel's expression was tight. "I don't know," he replied grimly. "And I'm not going to go looking for him. Come on." With that he stepped out cautiously onto the path, setting his booted feet carefully on the wet stone. He could hear Phoebe shuffling along behind him, and Buffy's even tread behind her. Otherwise the only sound was the girls' breathing and the faint ripple of the water.

"I don't like this," Phoebe whispered, all of her former energy and enthusiasm gone. Angel reached back with his free hand and patted her shoulder gently.

"It's okay," he told her. "Just keep moving. We'll get through this."

Phoebe swallowed nervously. "Plip plop, down comes the rain," she sang in a thready voice. "Let's go splashing in puddles, it's a fun new game."

"That's the spirit," Buffy murmured encouragingly, even though Angel could smell her cold sweat. He suddenly had a fierce desire to see the sun, to get the two girls out of this oppressive darkness. He grinned humorlessly. Since when had he started liking sunlight?

Something lunged out of the dark water to his right, wet and slimy and strong as it crashed into him, knocking him clear off his feet. The last thing he heard before the dark water closed over his head was Buffy screaming his name.


	17. Chapter 17

Buffy snatched Phoebe up in her arms and whirled around, turning her back to their attacker just in time for a heavy blow to land across her shoulders. She fell to her knees, catching herself with one hand. The other arm clutched Phoebe to her chest. Something seized hold of her pack and yanked. Buffy let go of Phoebe as she was dragged backwards, fumbling at the straps of the pack.

They slid off her shoulders just before she was pulled off the path and the pack disappeared into the water along with the mysterious creature. Buffy scrambled to her feet, knife in hand. Her dropped lantern shed enough light to give her a good view of everything in a ten-foot radius. Beyond that it was impenetrable darkness.

"Buffy?" Phoebe asked in a quavering whisper. "Angel hasn't come up yet."

"It's okay, hon," she replied. "He doesn't need to breath." Buffy narrowed her eyes, focusing all of her attention to her ears, listening as hard as she could. She spun to her right just as the creature surged out of the water again, and for half a second Buffy got a good look at it.

It was shaped more-or-less human, with pale, slimy skin and milky, sightless eyes. It's mouth was full of needle teeth and gills pulsed on either side of its scrawny neck. Buffy let out a cry of disgust as she swung the knife. The blade caught it across the bony chest, slicing deep into its flesh.

A piercing shriek split the air and it fell back into the water with a splash. Buffy crouched, searching the surface of the lake for any sign of the monster or Angel. A hand suddenly broke the surface, and Angel's head appeared a second later, tossing his hair out of his face as he emerged.

"Angel!" Buffy yelled, going down on one knee and extending a hand towards him. He reached for her. Just as their fingers brushed, he was jerked back under the surface. "Dammit!" Buffy spat, lunging to her feet. She shot a glance at Phoebe, who was crouched beside the lantern, rocking back and forth with her little hands stretched out over the guttering flame.

With a frown, Buffy took a step towards her charge when the light grew. It didn't get brighter, it just expanded. The circle of firelight doubled, then tripled in size. Buffy stared, her mouth falling open, but Phoebe just continued rocking, her eyes screwed tightly shut.

With a quiet splash, the monster leaped from the water onto the path. It squatted on its hands and feet, joints twisted in a gruesome manner so that it looked like a wet, pale spider. It snapped its teeth at Buffy and scuttled forward with blinding speed. Buffy scooted backwards as it lunged toward her face, bringing the knife up.

Pain seared through her arm as the creature's teeth buried themselves in her wrist and all of the sudden she was falling sideways, the water rapidly approaching. Just as she hit the surface, several things happened at once.

She heard a loud CRACK that made her ears ring. The creature's teeth were yanked from her arm with a tearing sensation. Then the icy embrace of the water enfolded her, driving the water from her lungs. A strong arm wrapped around her waist but the cold had sent her into shock and she couldn't resist.

She found herself being pulled through the water until her head broke the surface and warm air (well, warm compared to the water) rushed into her lungs. She gasped in another lungful and started coughing. Beside her, Angel pushed her up onto the path and pulled himself up beside her.

A lithe figure knelt beside her, pounding her back and brushing her hair out of her face. Buffy tried to jerk away but her muscles weren't responding properly.

"Buffy, it's okay," a female voice said soothingly. "You're okay. Calm down."

Still coughing, Buffy's head shot up. Crouched on one knee, a gentle smile on her face and a rifle slung across her back, was Jenny Calender.

XxxXxxX

Giles clutched the half-melted icepack to the back of his head. Willow leaned across the table to set the mug of tea in front of him. "Thank you, dear," he said gratefully. Xander, Oz, and the young redhead all watched him apprehensively, as if any minute he was going to snap.

"Oh, do stop looking like that," he said wearily. "You all did the best you could, as usual."

The relief that instantly showed on their faces was strangely gratifying. He had not realized how deeply these young people respected him. He glowered at the door for a moment. He only wished Faith had similar feelings.

The fiasco with Gwendolyn Post had nearly ended in disaster. Thankfully, Giles had been the only one injured; the children had escaped unscathed. Faith, however, had stormed off somewhere to sulk, and Giles feared the Slayer's trust in the Watchers' Council was irrevocably damaged.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Oz offered. He was the only one of the children with a driver's license. Giles opened his mouth to decline and winced instead.

"I think that would be a good idea, yes," he said weakly. "The two of you should go home as well," he told Willow and Xander. "Get some rest. It has been a particularly trying evening."

They all got to their feet, Giles swaying dangerously as he did. Oz caught hold of his elbow. For his slight stature, the boy was remarkably strong. Giles let Oz take some of his weight as he shuffled out of the library.

That was when he realized he had gone an entire day without thinking about Buffy.

XxxXxxX

Buffy gaped at the older woman for a long moment. "J-Jenny?" she stuttered, her teeth chattering. "W-what? How?"

Jenny shook her head, dark hair drifting around her shoulders. "Never mind that." She leaned to the side to look around Buffy. "Angel. You okay?"

Angel's expression was similar to Buffy's. He stared at the former school teacher with wide, dark eyes. Then he twisted around and heaved, his stomach tightening. Water gushed from his mouth. He repeated the motion a couple more times, bringing up less and less water. Then he sucked in a deep, uneven breath.

"Jenny," he said in a raw voice. "You're dead." He didn't mention that he was the one who had killed her.

She nodded solemnly. "Yes. I am."

"Then how are you here?" Angel asked.

Jenny shook her head again. "I can't tell you that." She lifted a hand to forestall questions. "No, I mean that. I'm only allowed to be here as long as I follow the Rules, and that's one of them. Sorry."

She got to her feet and helped Buffy up. "You poor thing, you're shaking." The woman retreated down the patch, carefully stepping around Phoebe, and retrieved a large, leather pack. A wool blanket was rolled up and tied to the top. She shook it out and handed it to Buffy.

"What was that?" Buffy managed to ask between shivers. "That thing," she pointed to the water. "Did you kill it?"

Jenny nodded affirmatively, one hand touching the butt of her rifle. "It's dead," she said firmly. "I don't know what it's called, or if it even has a name. All I know is that it's a shapeshifter. It appears as something harmless to try to get its prey to trust it. Then it turns on them at the first opportunity."

"The Huntsman," Angel rasped, shaking water from his long, shaggy hair. He flicked it up out of his eyes and glanced at Buffy. "The bad wolf was right."

"Yeah," she replied. Jenny shouldered her pack and picked up Buffy's discarded lantern.

"We should keep moving. This isn't the best place to stop and it'll keep Buffy warm."

Phoebe squeezed past Jenny and gripped Buffy's hand tightly, her fingers warm and tiny against Buffy's clammy palm. "I'm glad you're all right," the little girl said softly.

"Me, too," Buffy replied.

It took them three hours to get to the other side of the lake. Even with the blanket, Buffy felt like she was encased in ice. As soon as solid ground spread out in front of them, Jenny set down her pack and rifle and stripped the blanket from Buffy.

The Slayer didn't have time to protest before Jenny began rubbing her briskly with the blanket. "Angel, there's a bedroll in my pack. Go ahead and get that set up. What's your name, sweetie?"

"Phoebe," the little girl replied.

"Okay, Phoebe, I want you to crawl into the bedroll and get it nice and warm for Buffy, all right?"

Phoebe looked from Buffy's pale skin and blue lips to Jenny's face. She planted her feet and crossed her arms. "Who are you?" she demanded. Angel finished unfolding the bedroll and put his hand on Phoebe's shoulder.

"It's okay, Phoebe," he told her gently. "This is Jenny. She's a good friend of ours, from back home."

"Oh," Phoebe said, and sat down to remove her shoes. Then she burrowed into the blankets, only her big blue eyes showing. Jenny continued to towel Buffy off, working to get the blood circulating again. Then she tossed the blanket aside and pulled Buffy's shirt over her head.

Buffy squeaked in protest but Jenny only pressed her lips together. "Staying in wet clothes will only drop your body temperature. We need to get you warm. Take off your pants."

Buffy scowled but complied, shivering as the cold air hit her bare skin. She stood there wearing only the underwear she had painstakingly preserved. Jenny pointed at the bedroll. "Cuddle with Phoebe," the older woman ordered.

Phoebe curled up against Buffy's side as soon as Buffy settled into the blankets. She was deliciously warm and that warmth seeped through Buffy's chilled skin. Buffy rolled over to face Phoebe and wrapped her arms around the girl. She could hear Angel and Jenny talking a short distance away.

"What happened?" Jenny asked. "How did you two end up in the Labyrinth?" She paused for a moment, and then continued. "How did you get your soul back?"

"We're not sure," Angel replied softly. "About the soul, I mean. About the rest..." he blew out a sigh. "It's a long story."

Jenny snorted. "I kinda figured. Let's have it."

Buffy tried to stay awake as Angel began telling Jenny everything, but her eyelids suddenly weighed a ton each, and she fell asleep with Phoebe in her arms.


	18. Chapter 18

It's alive!

Yes. It's been forever since I updated this. No, I have no excuse. I sincerely apologize. I have every intention of finishing this story. I even have the whole thing plotted out. It's just that my Supernatural fics are eating my brain right now.

Please read and give Phoebe a hug.

XXXXXX

"Your idea to win the gypsy back from the Revenant is so far proving worthwhile."

He hadn't noticed her approach and was unfortunately unable to hide the startled coloring of his aura. "I do occasionally have good ideas," he replied, a little sullenly. She laughed at him. "How did your trip to Earth go?"

"Well. The second Slayer will remain distracted until the rest of our plan falls into place. Anything to report while I was gone?"

"The vampire and the Slayer have become satisfyingly attached to the child," he told her. "I dare say they'd be willing to trade their lives for her should the need arise. They also have no suspicions about her."

The female slid into place alongside him, looking down at the four beings in the dark tunnels of the Labyrinth. "Good," she replied. "It is not yet time for them to know the truth. The Others remain unaware?"

"As you said, the altercation with the Ascended should take them centuries to resolve," he said dryly. "Oma was not very pleased with me, but she will aid me in ending it when the time comes."

"She was always the most reasonable of the Ascended," she acknowledged.

"The Tribulations draw to a close," he pointed out. "They will soon be ready."

She laughed at him again. "Careful. You sounded almost eager there."

He shifted in embarrassment. "Well, perhaps your enthusiasm is contagious."

XxxXxxX

Buffy woke up with no idea how long she had slept. It was always the same in the caves. The light from their single lantern provided a weak illumination. The sound of the lake made her shiver. Phoebe stirred sleepily beside her, her little head tucked under Buffy's chin. Buffy rubbed the girl's back with lazy motions, enjoying the warmth of their combined body heats.

A shadow fell across her face and she looked up to see Angel crouch beside her. "Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Toasty," she replied happily. Angel set her clothing, now dry and neatly folded, beside the bedroll.

"For whenever you feel like getting up," he told her. "We're not in any hurry."

Buffy lifted her head. "Where's Jenny?"

"Scouting ahead. She should be back in a few hours."

Buffy frowned. "Is it safe for her to go by herself?"

Angel smiled crookedly. "I think she can handle herself. She did, after all, come to our rescue. Apparently she's a crack shot with that rifle of hers."

"Who knew?" Buffy said wryly. "And all this time I thought she was a computer geek."

Angel's smile vanished. "Death changes you," he said softly. Buffy freed an arm to hit him. He gave her a puzzled look and rubbed at his shoulder where her fist had connected.

"That wasn't you," she said in a voice that brooked no arguments. "It wasn't and I'm not putting up with any guilt over it, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Angel replied, only the slightest note of teasing in his voice.

Buffy glared at him without much heat and stretched. Phoebe shifted and opened her eyes. "'S it morning?" the girl mumbled.

"No clue, but you can go back to sleep if you want to," Buffy told her, reaching for her shirt. "You hungry?"

"No," Phoebe replied, burying her face in the blankets. Buffy slithered out of the bedroll and dressed quickly before the chill of the cavern drove away the warmth of her skin. Angel handed her a water bottle.

"We lost all of our supplies, but Jenny thinks she has enough for the rest of the trip."

Buffy frowned at him. "What about you?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Angel, seriously. What are you going to do?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "I can go a couple of days without eating, Buffy. I'll be fine. Besides, Jenny says we're almost through. Just another day or two."

"That's a relief," Buffy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She unraveled a few tangles and sighed. "I need another haircut."

The sound of approaching footsteps made them all turn and Jenny appeared from around the bend, another lantern in her hand. "Morning, Buffy. Feeling better?"

"Lots," Buffy replied chirpily, or as chirpily as she could imitate. "I hear we're almost to the surface."

Jenny gestured towards the tunnel behind her. "That's right. We should be getting out of here in a couple days."

"Awesome," Buffy stretched her arms above her head and then crouched beside the bedroll. "Rise and shine, Phoebe. We're hitting the road again."

XxxXxxX

When Buffy stepped out of the tunnel and into daylight, she thought the fresh breeze on her face was heaven. The sun was high and it was warm enough to chase away the chill of the caverns. They were standing on a narrow stone ledge. Mountains surrounded them as far as the eye could see.

Buffy blinked at the sight. "So, what next?" she asked hesitantly. "Are we out of the Labyrinth?"

"No," Jenny replied from behind her. "That was just the first leg. After we get out of the mountains, we'll have to cross the plains."

"And after that?" Angel asked.

Jenny eyed him with a shuttered expression. "We'll get to that later. Come on. We can make the station house before sundown."

Buffy sighed but reminded herself that she was out of the tunnels (thank God) and anything after that she could deal with. Besides, Phoebe looked ecstatic to be in the sunshine again and anything that made the little girl happy made Buffy happy, too.

"This looks pretty steep," Angel told Phoebe, looking over the edge. "You want me to carry you down?"

Phoebe agreed and Angel hoisted her onto his back where she clung like a little monkey, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, leaving his arms free to help him balance. The gravel slope constantly shifted underfoot, making it difficult to navigate.

Jenny went first, skidding and sliding expertly, one hand always close to her rifle. Buffy had volunteered to carry Jenny's pack and Angel went last. They were forced to rest after an hour, Jenny and Buffy both sweaty and sore. They passed a water bottle back and forth while Angel and Phoebe amused themselves by tossing rocks down the slope. Angel stooped to scoop up another handful when he froze.

Buffy went instantly alert. "What is it?" she demanded.

Angel slowly straightened, his head cocked to the side, listening intently. "I think we need to get out of here," he said quietly. Jenny scrambled to her feet, swinging her rifle off her shoulder, but Angel held his hand out. "That won't help us. We need to go. Now!" With that he snatched Phoebe up in his arms and bolted off across the slope, cutting perpendicular to the mountainside. Buffy and Jenny scrabbled along behind him, the older woman having trouble navigating the treacherous slope at high speeds.

Buffy cast around as she ran, trying to see what had alerted Angel. She had no doubt they were in danger; she just wish Angel had stopped to tell them what from. Then she heard it, a distant rumble like continuous thunder. The ground beneath her feet trembled, the small rocks beginning to slide.

Jenny stumbled and almost fell. Buffy grabbed her arm and yanked her easily to her feet. "Avalanche!" Jenny yelled over the growing noise.

"We can't outrun it," Angel called back. "We have to get out of its way!"

"Keep moving!" Buffy urged, scanning the upper slopes and trusting her Slayer instincts to keep her balanced. She finally caught sight of it, miles and miles above them, a wave of white snow sheeting down the mountainside at terrible speeds. It looked impossibly wide, consuming everything in its path.

Phoebe, slung over Angel's shoulder, stared up at the approaching disaster with huge eyes, her fists clenched in the back of Angel's shirt. "We're not gonna make it!" she cried frantically. The others ignored her, concentrating solely on running, on putting each foot on solid ground.

The rumbling grew louder, constantly increasing in volume until it filled the whole world. Buffy risked a glance and saw boulders and trees swallowed by the wall of snow. "Faster!" she screamed over the roar. "Faster is better!" Angel glanced over his shoulder at Buffy, his dark eyes pleading. Buffy nodded at him. "Go!" she ordered. Angel hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then sped up, bounding and leaping over the disintegrating slope with superhuman speed. Buffy kept her pace even with Jenny's. She wasn't going to leave the gypsy woman behind, but Phoebe had to be taken to safety. Angel could only do that if they didn't slow him down.

Buffy glanced up at the avalanche again. "Oh..." she whispered. She grabbed Jenny's arm and gestured with her head. Jenny's eyes widened before grim resignation hardened her features. Grabbing hold of each other as tightly as possible, they crouched down in a tiny dip in the slope, heads pressed together.

"This is really gonna suck," Buffy said dryly. Jenny laughed, and then the avalanche hit them.

XxxXxxX

Giles stared at the man standing uncomfortably in the middle of the library. For a moment, the Watcher wondered if Mr. Wyndham-Pryce knew he was currently directly over the Hellmouth and amused himself for a moment imagining it swallowing the ponce. He shook his head at his himself. Apparently the children were rubbing off on him too much.

But in all seriousness, how could the Council ever think that Wesley was the right man to take on the formidable job of Faith's Watcher? Of course, Giles had been instructed to remain and "assist," but he was under no delusions as to how well his suggestions would be taken. Hadn't the Council read his report at all? Hadn't he been clear enough when he'd explained how irretractable the new Slayer was?

He remembered Wesley. He'd entered the Watcher's Academy the year Giles had graduated. From an old Watcher's family, far too smart for his own good and entirely too invested in his family's reputation. Giles wondered idly if the young man had even seen a vampire, much less killed one.

Willow sidled up to him, never taking her eyes off Wesley. "Is he evil?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Giles replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"Can we kill him?" Faith asked darkly. Faced with a single target for their ill-will, Faith had, however briefly, become more cooperative to Giles' guidance.

"Probably not yet," Giles admitted. "Not until we can figure out how useless he is."

"When you said 'new Watcher,' I had no idea you meant one even worse than you," Faith went on. "I mean, c'mon, is he even good for anything? At least you know which end of the sword to hold."

"Thank you...I think?" Giles said, trying not to be too insulted. "Look, we should try to make the best of this situation, all right?"

"How do you suggest we do that?" Xander asked.

"Ignore him and hope he goes away?" Giles said hopefully.

XxxXxxX

It was dark and freezing cold and she was wet. She was also sore all over, as if she'd been beaten from head to toe multiple times by multiple assailants. She also couldn't breath. Buffy's eyes flew open. She was upside down. The only way she knew that was the fact that it felt like all her blood was rushing to her head. She tried to move, but the weight of the snow pinned her in place.

She slowly worked her hand to her face and cleared a bubble around her head, allowing her to breath a little better. There was almost no light filtering through the snow; she had to be pretty deep. She kicked her legs experimentally and managed to get them underneath her. Using every ounce of her strength, she clawed her way to the surface and pulled herself out of the snow.

The landscape had vanished. Trees and all other landmarks were gone. All she saw was snow for miles. "Jenny?" Buffy called, wrapping her arms around herself. She was wet and cold, despite the bright sun overhead, and was beginning to shiver.

"Jenny!" she called again, but there was no reply. Buffy tried to take a step and sank to her knees, floundering in the snow. She stopped after a few minutes of struggling and only managing to travel a few feet. She surveyed her surroundings again. The avalanche had deposited her in a narrow valley, mountain peaks rising on either side of her.

Buffy sighed and dragged her hand through her dripping hair. Great. She had no idea where she was or where her friends were. This just couldn't get any worse.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she winced and instantly erased it, hoping that no one (or thing) had noticed and decided to take her word for it. She looked around a third time and tried to decide which direction to go in. She knew she couldn't stay here. She didn't want to test hypothermia against her Slayer healing. She eventually picked down slope and started out as best as she could, trudging through the soft snow.

As the sun dropped, so did the temperature. Buffy's wet clothes began to stiffen and she couldn't stop shaking. She refused to let herself stop walking, though, knowing that keeping up her body heat was the only way she'd survive. The sun was dipping behind the mountain peaks, the valley cast in shadow, when the snow finally grew shallower and shallower until it barely came to the tops of her boots. Then the snow abruptly stopped, and green grass rolled down from her feet. She could see the entire valley spread below her, trees dotting the triangular wedge of green between the gray mountains, a winding river crossing the valley again and again.

Buffy rubbed her arms, trying to chafe some warmth into her limbs, and started walking again. She needed to find shelter before the sun set fully, somewhere safe and hopefully warm. Although the warm part seemed pretty unlikely as she had nothing with which to start a fire. Jenny's pack was long gone in the avalanche. Buffy had nothing except her clothing and the bone-handled knife in her belt. At least she hadn't lost the weapon.

She reached the first copse of trees just as it got full dark. There was no moon and the stars seemed distant and faint, most of them blocked out by the towering mountains. Buffy lowered herself stiffly to the ground in the shelter of the trees, intending to rest a while before setting off again. She sat for a few minutes, listening to the distant river echo through the valley. From far away she thought she heard a drawn-out wail, not unlike a mountain lion. She shuddered at the thought of strange beasts inhabiting the mountains.

"Just what I need," she mumbled. "More monsters." Her eyes drifted shut as her head drooped to her chest. She was almost asleep when the sound of soft footsteps reached her ears. Exhausted, battered, and verging on hypothermic, it was all she could do to open her eyes to seek out the source of the noise.

A large, dark shape was moving slowly through the trees towards her, walking on all fours. She could make out nothing more than its silhouette and a pair of gleaming eyes. Buffy stirred weakly, trying to summon the strength to stand, but she was already sliding toward unconscious again. The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was soft fur and hot breath on her face.


	19. Chapter 19

The sounds of the avalanche rumbled in the distance, the echoes beginning to fade away. Angel paused atop a boulder and checked behind him, praying that Buffy and Jenny had gotten out of the way in time. He hadn't wanted to leave them behind, but they couldn't risk Phoebe getting hurt, and he was the only one who could have gotten her to safety. Besides, he assured himself, Buffy was the Slayer and Jenny was a smart woman. They'd be fine.

"Are we gonna go back to look for them?" Phoebe asked. Angel lowered her to the ground.

"Buffy had all of our supplies, and I don't know the way to the station house," Angel replied. He looked down at her. "Do you?"

She chewed on her knuckle for a moment. "No," she finally admitted.

"Then yes, we're going back to look for them," Angel told her. Phoebe nodded firmly

"Good, because I didn't like leaving them behind."

"Neither did I," Angel told her softly. He jumped down off the boulder and turned to help Phoebe do the same only to find that the child had made the attempt on her own and had fallen, landing in a heap on the ground. "You okay?" he asked, stooping to pick her up.

"Yes. Ouch!" Phoebe clapped a hand over a bloody scrape on her arm, but by then it was too late. The scent had already reached Angel's nostrils and he was violently reminded that he hadn't eaten in days. He let go of Phoebe as if the contact had burned him and took several long paces away from her, drinking in the snow-scented air to drown out the phantom taste of blood.

"Angel?" Phoebe called waveringly from behind him. "What...what is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Angel replied, slightly harsher than he had intended. "Just give me a minute." When he thought he had the hunger under control, he looked back around for the girl. She was using snow to wash the wound clean. He crossed back over to her and gently took her arm, turning it over so he could examine the injury. The scent of blood assailed him again, but this time he managed to resist.

"It's not too bad," he told her. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Phoebe replied, staring at him in confusion. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"I'm sure." Angel got to his feet and offered her his hand. "Let's go find Buffy and Jenny."

Phoebe quickly took his hand, implicit trust shining on her face. They'd only gone a mile before the snow started to deepen and Angel realized just how narrowly they'd missed disaster. Angel looked out at the swath of destruction the avalanche had caused and swallowed on his rising feeling of dread. Phoebe tugged at his hand.

"We should start looking down there," she pointed. "They were right behind us. If they got caught in the avalanche, it would have taken them down slope."

"Good thinking," Angel agreed. He began to pick his way down the mountainside, Phoebe trudging along in the path that he carved out. Her clothing was hardly suited for this environment but she didn't complain, only shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket and silently dogging Angel's steps.

Every one of Angel's senses were alert for any movement. He stopped every so often to scan their surroundings, but as the day wore on, there was still no sign of Jenny or Buffy. Angel tried to conceal his mounting frustration from Phoebe, but her eyes got wider and wider as time went by.

A strange bleating sound caught Angel's attention a couple of hours before sunset, and after a few moments they discovered one of the odd, six-legged deer-creatures flailing around in the deep snow. One of its hind legs had been broken and its sharp hooves kept sinking in the snow, preventing it from moving.

Phoebe tugged on Angel's shirt. "Food, Angel," she said softly. "You need to eat." He looked down at her, startled, and she crossed her arms. "I _have_ noticed that you haven't eaten in four days, Angel," she said. "You need the blood."

Angel couldn't argue. "Go over there and look the other way," he ordered, pointing back the way they came. Phoebe looked like she was going to argue, but Angel shook his head at her warningly. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and trudged back a few steps, turning her back to him. Angel looked down at the animal in front of him.

He approached it cautiously, making soothing noises as he tried to get close enough to grab it. He finally did, seizing its head and shoulders in a gentle but firm grip. He stroked its neck, still murmuring, until it finally began to calm down, still bleating softly in pain. Then Angel snapped its neck. Immediately he vamped out and buried his fangs into the creature's jugular, gulping down the blood before it began to coagulate. He wasn't sure when he would next be able to find a meal, so he allowed himself to gorge on the animal. The taste of the blood was slightly bitter, but beggars couldn't be choosers and Angel was grateful for whatever he could get.

When he was finally done, he carefully washed his face with snow, cleaning all traces of blood from his skin. He covered the corpse back over and then at last turned to call Phoebe over. She was still obediently facing the opposite direction, her arms wrapped around herself.

"You can come over, now," Angel told her.

"Feel better?" she asked as she joined him.

"Yes," Angel replied. "Let's keep moving." The continued working their way down slope, Angel constantly on the alert. Just as the sun was dipping behind the mountains, he caught sight of something dark against the backdrop of pristine snow. He angled toward it, Phoebe plodding faithfully behind him, until they got close enough to see that it was Jenny.

The gypsy woman was lying half-in and half-out of the snow, her rifle clutched to her chest. Her clothing was wet and beginning to freeze. She stirred faintly when Angel began digging her out, opening her eyes to try to focus on Angel's face. There was a nasty gash across her forehead that dripped blood down her face.

That was when Angel noticed something odd about Jenny. Her skin was warm and he could hear her heart beating, she breathed and ate and felt _alive_ but her scent was all wrong. She still smelled like Jenny Calender, but unlike every other human Angel had ever come in contact with, she didn't smell like food.

"Jenny?" he asked as he pulled her free of the snow. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah," she muttered through chattering teeth. "Fine. Where's Buffy?"

Angel frowned. "She's not with you?"

Jenny shook her head. "We got separated after the avalanche hit us."

Angel scanned the mountainside but there was no sign of the Slayer. "Jenny, how far is it to the next station house?"

"A couple of hours, why?"

He helped her stand. "We need to get you there before hypothermia sets in."

"What about Buffy?" Jenny demanded, setting her jaw stubbornly despite the fact she was woefully bedraggled and shivering head to toe. Angel ran his fingers through his long, shaggy hair and sighed. "You and Phoebe come first," he said with great reluctance. "Once we get to the station house, I'll come back and look for her."

"Angel," Jenny began, but Angel shook his head at her.

"No arguments. Let's go."

Once more, Angel broke a path through the snow for the women, the temperature of course not bothering him. He was just as wet as Jenny and his clothes had long ago frozen stiff, but the magic that kept his body from undergoing rigor mortis kept his muscles limber. The sun set and the temperature plummeted further. Jenny's footsteps grew slower and more faltering. After the third time that she stumbled and nearly fell, Angel picked her up bridal-style.

The station house was perched in a crevasse in the side of the mountain, a narrow, winding stairway leading up to it. Like the first one, it wasn't locked. Angel made straight for the fireplace and lay Jenny down on the fur rug in front of it. "Phoebe, see if you can find some blankets," he ordered, only to hear a soft sigh and a quiet thump behind him. He whirled around.

Phoebe lay crumbled on the floor just inside the door. With a muttered curse, Angel strode over to the girl and carried her over to lie next to Jenny. He had been so preoccupied with finding the missing women that he had failed to notice Phoebe's distress. Still berating himself, he managed to find blankets and covered both of them before working to get the fire started.

The station house had been empty for a while, judging by the near freezing temperatures inside. But a roaring fire did wonders to sheer the place up and Angel carefully removed as much of Phoebe and Jenny's sopping clothing as he felt comfortable with before wrapping them up and letting the fire do the rest of the work. He found a change of clothing for himself, as well, getting rid of the travel-worn outfit he'd been wearing since hell.

He came back to check on Phoebe and Jenny to find both of them sleeping peacefully. He stood staring down at them pensively. He wanted to leave immediately, to go and look for Buffy, but he couldn't leave the other two alone in this condition. Reason had to win over emotion.

Buffy would have to wait.

XxxXxxX

Giles interrupted Wesley's sputtered and nearly-incoherent rant with three words that sent the whole room into shocked silence. "Well done, Faith," he said, holding the brunette Slayer's gaze. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a surprised smile.

"You mean it?" she asked, too stunned to play her normal games.

"Absolutely," Giles said firmly. "You did a remarkable job taking out Balthazar and his followers." Turning, he looked at each one of the other children in turn. "Willow, your help with the research was indispensable. Oz, thank you for being there to back Faith up. Xander, I realize you weren't technically involved, but your support, as always, is appreciated. Now. All of you should get some rest. We've had a long day."

Glowing from Giles' praise, the four teenagers left the library, talking animatedly to each other. Giles was satisfied to note that Faith was taking eager part in the conversation, though she was giving Willow a more graphic retelling of the slaying than the aspiring witch needed, judging by the unattractive shade of green she was going. As soon as the children had left, Giles turned to Wesley and glared at him.

"That," he said coldly, "Is how you deal with them." His glare grew even more frosty. "And if you ever presume to criticize my children again, I guarantee you will regret it." With that, Giles swept off into his office, leaving the younger Watcher gaping after him. It was only when he was behind the safety of a closed door that Giles realized he had referred to them as "his children."

Oh, dear.

XxxXxxX

Buffy woke up with a start and realized she was curled up on her side, her head pillowed on her arms. She also realized that she was warm and dry and remarkably well rested. She slowly opened her eyes, confused, and saw that she was surrounded by shaggy, gray-and-black fur. She could hear the soft sounds of deep, even breaths, and the steady beat of a nearby heart. Buffy froze. There was a strange creature curled up around her.

She was debating what on earth she was supposed to do now when the creature abruptly stirred, uncoiling from around her. A head swung in her direction and Buffy abruptly relaxed. She recognized the symbol-stamped brow and the glowing, gold eyes. "Bad Wolf," she greeted.

"Slayer," the Bad Wolf replied, getting to her feet. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, standing and stretching. "Thanks." She hesitated, and then went on, "I guess you saved my life."

"For a second time," the Bad Wolf reminded her mildly.

Buffy shifted her weight, shoving her hands into her back pockets. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my friends are, do you?"

"No," the Wolf said, flicking her ears back and forth. "But I know where the station house is. If it survived the avalanche. I can take you there."

"Thanks," Buffy said again. "I'd appreciate that."

The Wolf turned and padded off through the tiny copse, and Buffy hurried after. The morning air was chill but not too terribly cold, and within a half-hour Buffy's muscles were warm and limber again. She easily kept pace alongside the Bad Wolf's long strides.

"So...You get a lot of people coming through the Labyrinth?" Buffy asked after searching for some way to get the Wolf to talk.

"Not many," she replied. "Even fewer reach the end. You've done well, though."

"Oh," Buffy said, blinking. Her stomach growled and the Bad Wolf turned to look at her.

"You are hungry?" she asked.

"Yeah, a little," Buffy admitted.

The Bad Wolf slowed her pace but didn't stop. "What do you eat?" she asked curiously.

"Um, anything I guess," Buffy replied. Then, realizing what she was talking to, she added quickly, "But I usually like my meat cooked first."

"You have no means of making a fire," the Bad Wolf pointed out. "It would be best then that we find you some kind of suitable vegetation." She tilted her head. "You wouldn't happen to be able to eat grass, would you?"

"Uh, no," Buffy said. The Bad Wolf snorted.

"Pity."

They ranged over the narrow valley, the Bad Wolf showing Buffy where to find more edible things. Very little of it was appetizing, but Buffy was hungry and she didn't have much of a choice. When she was finally full, the Bad Wolf led the way toward the end of the valley. There they found an old trail head, overgrown and partially crumbled. It lead back up into the mountains.

"Oh, fantastic," Buffy muttered, crossing her arms. "Can't we be done with the mountains, yet?"

The Bad Wolf turned her gaze on Buffy. "Do you want to reach the station house or not?"

The Slayer sighed and followed the Wolf. "Fine. But if we get buried in another avalanche, I'm blaming you."

XXXXXX

Very important author's note: I do not hate Wesley! I actually find him all kinds of adorable. He is just an insufferable ponce during his first few appearances, until his time with Angel finally mellows him out. Please don't think I'm bashing him. *cuddles Wesley*

Second very important author's note: Yes. Giles is treating Faith quite differently than he did in canon. Why? Because he was a complete tool to her in canon and I hated that. All she needed was a little affirmation, and now that she's not constantly competing with Buffy, she has a chance at that. Besides, Giles realizes she's the only Slayer they got now and they can't afford to be mean to her.

Third very important author's note: Everyone who is still reading and commenting on this story are rock stars and you all get your own solid gold electric guitar. And by "get" I mean "imagining that I'm giving you a pretend one." Thanks for the continued support!


	20. Chapter 20

Angel didn't technically _need_ the coat, but the protection it offered would be useful. After all, it was annoying to have to move around with wet and frozen clothing. So he pulled the heavy wool on and settled it across his shoulders. It hung to his knees and had a deep hood. It was dark gray, which is what had originally attracted him to it, and was remarkably easy to maneuver in. The rest of his new clothing were also of somber coloring and practical design, and he knew that Buffy would tease him when she saw him next.

He left the closet and made his way back to the main room of the station house where Phoebe and Jenny waited. Phoebe was dressed in a new, dry clothing and had a new coat of her own. Jenny was seated in front of the fire, swathed from head to toe in blankets and clutching a steaming mug.

"I don't like the idea of you going out there on your own," she said, her voice distorted by a stuffy nose.

"You're in no condition to come with me," Angel reminded her. "And Phoebe would be better off here, anyway. No offense, but you'll just slow me down," he told the girl. Phoebe only nodded in agreement. "Buffy spent the night out there alone and in the open," Angel went on. "I need to find her. I'll be back before sundown. If I'm not..." he faltered, unsure of what instructions to give.

Jenny glared at him. "Then we'll come out and look for you, too. And kick your butt when we find you."

Phoebe giggled and Angel smiled wanly. "Yeah, that," he said. He walked over to the door and started to open it. He turned back to look one more time at Jenny and Phoebe. "Stay safe," he told them softly, and then slipped out.

XxxXxxX

The journey back to the station house was proving, on a whole, rather uninteresting. The Bad Wolf wasn't much of a conversationalist, and the view had been at first breathtaking, and then just monotonous. Buffy followed the Wolf along the path that was currently following the ridge of a low mountain peak. The trail was about five feet wide and slanted dangerously down to each side, the steep slope stretching for miles. Thankfully, Buffy wasn't scared of heights and had marvelous balance. There was little chance of her falling from the path.

"Um, about how big is this mountain range?" Buffy asked, raising her voice above the wind whistling down from the higher peaks.

"It is a fortnight's journey through them along the Labyrinth," the Bad Wolf replied. "And they stretch from one end of Crossroads to the other."

"So...we're talking pretty big?" Buffy joked weakly. The Bad Wolf put her ears back and didn't comment. Buffy sighed and kept walking, wrapping her arms around herself. Her thoughts turned to her friends, and she fervently hoped they were all right. They'd already seen how things could go wrong here in the blink of an eye. She didn't want to think about all that could happen while she wasn't there. Then she chided herself for overreacting. Phoebe had been through the Labyrinth before; she knew what it could throw at them. Jenny was obviously far more capable than Buffy had previously thought. And Angel was over two centuries old. If he'd survived that long without Buffy to watch his back, he could last however long it took for her to find him.

So Buffy pushed her worry aside and found that she had little else to think about. She'd become so used to dealing with what was exactly in front of her that finding herself at odd ends was a bit of a shock. She cast around for something to amuse herself with and was just about to make another attempt to start up a conversation with the Wolf when the animal in question abruptly turned away from the path and dropped below the edge. Buffy hurried to the spot the Wolf had disappeared and looked over.

The incline was not quite as steep here, and the Wolf was skittering down the slope, sending rocks tumbling down from her heavy paws. She stopped and looked up at Buffy, her glowing eyes strangely expressive.

"Are you coming?" she asked, tilting her head inquiringly.

Buffy hesitated. Phoebe had clearly stated that leaving the Labyrinth path was suicide. From what she had said, there was no two ways about it. "Are you sure that's the right way?" she asked.

The Bad Wolf exhaled impatiently through her nose. "These mountains are my home, Slayer. I know them as well as I know my own mind."

Buffy hesitated some more. The Bad Wolf had warned them about the Huntsman, and had turned out correct, but the Huntsman had saved them from the dragon. She didn't know if she could trust the Wolf completely and the track record of things they had met in the Labyrinth was not very good. It could all be part of some elaborate plot. She looked from the Wolf to the path and back.

The Wolf huffed again. "Fine. Follow the path and see where that leads you. I tried to help you. Whatever happens is your own fault." With that she continued to make her way down the slope, ignoring Buffy. Buffy raked her fingers through her hair, her mind racing but unable to give her a satisfactory decision. So she took a deep breath and went with her gut instinct.

"Hey! Wait up!" she called after the Bad Wolf, and began her own skittering, sliding descent.

It took them three hours to reach the bottom of the incline, which turned out to be a dry, narrow ravine that cut between the mountains like an arrow, heading straight north. The Wolf picked up her pace, forcing Buffy to jog to keep up.

"What's the hurry?" she demanded, keeping even with the Wolf's shoulder. Buffy stood only a couple of inches taller than the beast, but the Wolf easily weighed four times as much as her. It was physically intimidating to to be in the presence of such a massive animal, despite the fact that so far the Bad Wolf had shown absolutely no aggressive tendencies.

"It will be dark soon," the Wolf replied shortly. "We do not want to be caught in the open after dark."

"Bad things come out at night?" Buffy asked, suddenly nervous.

The Wolf eyed Buffy without turning her head. "Very bad things," she agreed.

XxxXxxX

He had had millenia to grow accustomed to her moods and was now poised at any moment to flee should her current agitated state erupt into fury. She formed, dissipated, and re-formed, cycling through shapes that had long ago become extinct and disused.

"I do not like this," she said for the thousandth time. "I do not want her here. The Bad Wolf is unpredictable. She is wild and primal. There is no telling what she will do to the Slayer."

"She is not inherently evil," he pointed out.

"Nor is she a force for good," she retorted.

"She is nearly as old and as powerful as we are," he felt the need to venture. "And she rarely takes interest in the finite world."

"She belongs in the currents of time, maintaining the balance of the universe," she snapped, in no mood to be contradicted. But during his time with her, something must have rubbed off, because he stood his ground and pressed the point.

"All I am saying is that if she has decided to intervene with the Slayer, then something more may be happening here than we realize. It would be wise if we explore the matter further in order to see what that is."

She gathered herself for another hot reply and abruptly stopped. "You are right," she admitted. "If she is taking interest in the Slayer, it may mean she has intentions of her own. We've put too much effort into these two to lose them now."

As she swept off, he remained where she left him, feeling ignored and frustrated. "That was not what I meant," he muttered.

XxxXxxX

The sun was dipping down behind the mountaintops for the second time since the avalanche. Angel stood at the bottom of the stairs to the station house and watched its imperceptible descent. This would be the second night he had been separated from Buffy and the thought gnawed at him. They had not spent the night apart since their reunion in Acathla's hell dimension, and he had not realized how much he'd taken her presence for granted. They'd had to rely on each other just to survive for so long now that it felt as if he was missing an arm.

His eyes remained fixed and unwavering at the sun. It occurred to him dully that he'd also grown accustomed to being able to withstand the sun. For whatever reason, the sun here held no danger to him, and he moved in the open during the day without thinking. He'd come to enjoy it, being able to watch the sun rise and set for the first time in nearly two and a half centuries. Of everything that had happened since they'd arrived in hell, that was one thing he could hold up as a good thing.

Angel turned and looked out at the mountains surround him and wondered if Buffy was all right. If she was safe and warm. If she had been able to eat. If she was injured. If she was alive. He hurriedly squashed the last thought. He would refuse to assume Buffy's demise until he discovered her body, and not even then. She'd come back before. She could do it again.

Buffy was the Slayer. She could take care of herself. It had become his mantra over the last day, chanting it to himself to keep from panicking. Jenny and Phoebe still relied on him and he knew Buffy would want him to care for them first. With an unnecessary sigh, he began trudging up the stairs to the station house, feeling weary and defeated.

Phoebe opened the door while he was still several steps away, watching him approach with wide, blue eyes. When he reached her, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the front of his coat. Angel gently hugged her back.

"We'll find her, Angel," she said, her voice muffled. She pulled away far enough to stare up at him solemnly. "I promise."

Angel smiled at her sincerity. "I know," he replied a little sadly. But the little girl couldn't promise that. The mountains were vast and there was no way Angel could search them on his own. A deep, dark part of his brain whispered that there was very little chance of finding Buffy at all unless some sort of miracle occurred. He pointedly ignored that part and moved deeper into the station house, toward the warmth of the fireplace and the waiting Jenny, anxious for news.

XxxXxxX

Somewhere between dimensions, three entities convened at a preordained time. One minute there was nothing, and the next, the trio of gray, cloaked figures stood facing each other, hovering in the void as if it had been made to accommodate them, or they to exist in it. Both were true. There was nothing to distinguish one from the other. They were identical in every way, featureless, neuter, and without individuality.

One said: This is beginning to get out of hand.

One said: We agree. Something must be done.

One said: If we do not, the repercussions could be detrimental.

One said: The Others and the Bad Wolf have already become involved. It is only a matter of time before more begin to take interest.

One said: The Revenant have sent a representative.

One said: We know. She eliminated our first obstacle.

One said: The child must not be allowed to reach the Shrine. We must take further steps to prevent this.

One said: Are we willing to undergo the risks necessary? We have not had this much contact with the finite in eons, and we have not forgotten what happened last time.

One said: We have no other choice. Prepare the next obstacle. The Slayer and the Vampire must be eliminated.

One said: It will be done.

A bit further off, unnoticed by the trio, another cloaked figure lurked, this one swathed in black. Points of blue light glowed in the depths of the hood and a bony hand emerged from a fold of the cloak. Within the fingers was clutched a small hourglass, wrought of silver and crystal. Along the top edge were carved the words: "The Slayer." The figure held the hourglass up even with the hood and the blue lights studied it solemnly. A thin stream of sand flowed steadily from the top chamber to the bottom. The figure turned the hourglass upside down. The sand continued to flow, now upwards. The figure righted the hourglass.

The top chamber, which had a moment before been nearly full, now only contained the thinnest layer of sand.

The cloaked figure sighed heavily.

OH, DEAR.

XxxXxxX

Buffy shivered involuntarily. The stars were beginning to appear overhead and they were still in the gravel-bottomed ravine. The Bad Wolf had seemed on edge since sunset, her head up and her ears pricked and alert. She had, as usual, been silent, but when Buffy had tried to ask a question, the Wolf had silenced her with a look. Buffy shivered again and edged closer to the beast. The temperature was beginning to drop and heat radiated from the Wolf in waves. Her golden eyes glowed in the gathering twilight, the light from them almost comforting. She was considering taking the risk and asking when they would stop for the night when the Bad Wolf halted dead in her tracks, scenting the air.

"Wait here," the Bad Wolf ordered, and then bounded into the darkness, leaving Buffy too quickly for the Slayer to protest. Buffy stood where the Wolf had left her, staring plaintively into the night and shivering from the cold. She reached down and pulled her knife free from her belt, every sense alert. The moments stretched into each other, and nothing happened. Then Buffy heard a very quiet sound.

It was the quiet sob of a child, born of weariness and misery. Buffy whipped her head around, trying to pinpoint its source. She heard another sob and then a plaintive sniffle. It was coming from above her, on the top edge of the ravine. Putting her knife back in her belt, Buffy carefully climbed the steep walls until she reached the lip and cast around again. She could hear the crying clearer now, and made her way warily along the edge of the ravine.

Despite the fact there was no moon, the starlight was enough to make out the features of the landscape, every rock edged in silver. Buffy continued to follow the noise until she rounded a boulder and nearly stumbled over the source.

It was, indeed, a child, who immediately cringed away from Buffy, shrinking into what little safety the shadow of the boulder offered. Buffy couldn't make out much except that the child was female, and was clothed in little more than rags. The tattered remains of what had been a red hood shielded the child's face.

Buffy stopped a safe distance away and crouched. "Hello?" she called softly. "Are you all right?"

The girl sniffled and raised a grubby fist to rub at her eyes. "N't supposed t' talk t' strangers," she mumbled, and Buffy realized that she must be even younger than Phoebe, probably no more than five or six.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," Buffy assured her. "Are you okay?"

The girl huddled closer to the boulder. "Can't find my Gran," she said, her voice little more than a tired whine. "I don' like bein' alone."

"What happened to your Gran?" Buffy asked.

"The snow came an' took her away," the girl replied. "I got lost lookin' for her an' I'm hungry."

"Why don't you come with me?" Buffy offered. "I have a friend who's very good at finding food."

The girl stilled. "You'll take care of me?" she asked breathlessly.

Buffy smiled ruefully. "It's kinda my job."

"Promise?" the girl pressed.

Buffy sighed. "I promise," she said.

The girl lifted her head, her eyes finally meeting Buffy's. Buffy's body went rigid as their gazes locked, unable to turn her head or look away. The girl's eyes were dark, empty orbs, holding neither pupil nor color. Buffy could do nothing but stare into them, into the void on the other side. Her body grew cold and heavy, numbness spreading through her limbs.

The girl slowly stood, and as she did, Buffy was pulled upright as well. A dead, cruel smile twisted the girl's lips. She held out her hand and Buffy found herself stepping forward until she could close her fingers around the child's tiny palm. The girl's skin felt clammy and cold, like a day-old corpse. She turned and began walking along the edge of the ravine.

It was as if Buffy was a puppet or a marionette, manipulated by some force outside her own body. No matter how hard she struggled, she could not wrest control. She raged within her own mind, screaming and battering at the bonds, but to no avail. The girl continued to lead her along, and Buffy's feet continued to follow.

A tall, shadowed figure stood along their path, ebony cloak gilded in silver moonlight. Glowing blue eyes that held the mysteries of the universe in their depth watched as the pair passed by, completely unaware of the third presence. In the hand that had once held the hourglass was now clutched a long-handled scythe, the blade arching over the figure's head. The figure continued to watch as the girl lead the Slayer further into the darkness. It shook its head in resignation.

THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL, it observed to itself.


	21. Chapter 21

The black-clad figure paced slowly along the edge of the ravine, eyes sweeping the ground. The scythe remained clutched in the right hand and the nearly-empty hourglass hung from the belt by a cord. Every so often, the figure would stop, consider the ground in front of its feet, shake its head, and move on. It continued to do this for close to half an hour before it came once more to a halt. Bending over, the figure reached down and carefully moved a single stone an inch to the right.

THAT SHOULD DO IT, it said with satisfaction. As it straightened, something caught its attention back the way it had come. It turned and stepped to the side, fading into the shadows until it became all but invisible. The girl appeared around a bend, still leading the Slayer by the hand. The girl would occasionally giggle, a high-pitched, frightening sound.

Buffy had not ceased fighting. She focused her entire will on her feet, trying to force them to stop moving. She stumbled slightly and redoubled her efforts, clawing and screaming and thrashing at the psychic bindings. At her side, the girl giggled again. The scraps of red fabric in her dark hair looked disturbingly like blood.

"Shouldn't fight!" the girl said. "Naughty, naughty. Gonna hurt yourself!"

_Screw you_, Buffy snarled mentally. _What the hell are you, anyway?_

"Doesn't know?" The girl laughed nasally. "Doesn't know, doesn't know, doesn't know," she sang mockingly. "Too stupid to figure it out herself. Gonna die. Gonna get eaten up."

Buffy snarled again silently, imagining herself killing the girl-shaped monster in the most violent ways possible. The girl only giggled and tightened her hold on Buffy's hand. Buffy was walking along the very edge of the ravine, the girl to her left. Buffy took the next step and her foot came down wrong on a stone. For a moment she seemed to hover there, teetering on the edge, and then she fell.

The girl screamed in anger as Buffy tumbled down the side of the ravine. The rocks tore up her exposed skin, but she couldn't move to protect herself. She could see a cluster of rocks approaching fast and braced herself for impact. There was a bright light when her head cracked against one of the rocks, and then a flash of blinding pain.

The pain faded slowly and Buffy opened her eyes. She was lying at the bottom of the gully, flat on her back. The sky overhead was gray and empty, neither day nor night. There was a blue light illuminating her surroundings. She sat up slowly, testing her limbs as she realized that the girl's hold on her was broken.

HELLO, SLAYER, said a deep voice to her right. It was an ancient voice, old and powerful and resonant. She turned to look for the source. She saw a pair of bony feet poking out from underneath the hem of a black robe. Buffy did a double-take and realized that the feet weren't bony, they _were bone._ She slowly let her gaze travel up, up, and up nearly seven feet to meet the gaze of the owner of the feet.

The face half-hidden by the black cowl was a skull, bleached white with a fixed grin and glowing blue lights burning in the empty eye sockets. The blade of a scythe arched over his head, the handle clutched tightly in bone fingers. Buffy blinked.

"Have we met?" she asked weakly.

ONCE, the figure replied. VERY BRIEFLY.

Buffy gave the figure another once-over. "You're Death, aren't you?" she guessed.

YES, Death replied.

Buffy considered that for a moment. She wasn't sure exactly how she felt about this. She was upset, for sure. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave Angel. But on the other hand, she wasn't all that surprised. She'd been expecting something like this to happen since she woke up in hell. Buffy got to her feet.

"All right, then," she said resignedly. "Let's get this over with."

Death stared at her for a moment. AH. YOU SEEM TO HAVE MISTAKEN MY PURPOSE FOR BEING HERE, he said.

"Wait, so I'm not about to die?" Buffy asked quickly, hope flaring in her chest.

NO, I'M AFRAID YOU ARE, Death replied almost regretfully. BUT I WANTED TO TAKE THE OPPORTUNITY TO SPEAK WITH YOU FIRST.

"About what?" Buffy asked, bemused.

YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO ACCOMPANY THE VAMPIRE INTO HELL, Death told her. YOU KNOW THIS, CORRECT?

"I figured something like that, yeah," Buffy said, nodding.

BUT YOU DID, AND THAT HAS CHANGED THINGS. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FAR-REACHING THE REPERCUSSIONS OF THAT SINGLE EVENT ARE?

"Not really," the Slayer said uncertainly.

ALL OF THE FUTURE IS CHANGING. IT IS STARTING HERE AT THE CENTER, BUT WITH EACH PASSING MOMENT, THE RIPPLES ARE MOVING FURTHER. SOON THE TIMELINES WILL BE COMPLETELY UNRECOGNIZABLE. AND NOT JUST ON EARTH. IN ALL DIMENSIONS.

Buffy blinked at Death again, her mouth falling open. "Seriously?" she managed after a moment. "It was that big of a difference?"

Death nodded. THE FUTURE IS CURRENTLY IN FLUX. NOT EVEN I CAN SEE WHAT WILL HAPPEN. THIS HAS MADE SOME PEOPLE...UPSET. PEOPLE WHO WOULD RATHER SEE ALL LIFE BECOME EXTINCT. He paused, tilted his skull to the side, and continued, THEY DO NOT LIKE YOU VERY MUCH.

"Why are you telling me this?" Buffy asked. "I'm getting the feeling this isn't your usual job."

IT ISN'T. BUT YOU NEEDED TO BE WARNED.

"I thought I was about to die," she pointed out.

YOU ARE. BUT YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO CHANGE IT. Death dipped his head at her. GOOD LUCK.

Buffy blinked. She was lying flat on her back, staring up at the starry sky. The girl's scream still hung in the air and the rocks disturbed by Buffy's fall were still clattering down the side of the ravine. She lay there for a few precious moments, her head aching, and then she heard the girl descending into the ravine.

The Slayer was on her feet in a flash, yanking her knife out of her belt. She turned to face the girl but was careful not to meet her eyes.

"Think you're smart," the girl snarled angrily. "Think you're gonna win? Gonna rip you to pieces." The girl held up her hands and crooked her fingers. Claws extended from her nails and she leaped at Buffy, who twisted out of the way just in time. Buffy slashed down with her knife, grazing the girl-creature's shoulder. The blade sliced through skin and flesh far easier than it should have, and the girl stumbled before coming to a halt and whirling around.

The skin of her shoulder was split and torn and something dark and twisted poked through. It took Buffy a moment to realize that it was a shoulder, bony and covered in dark, leathery hide. The human skin hung bunched around the joint like torn fabric. Buffy grimaced. The body of the little girl was little more than a garment to hide the real monster beneath.

The creature glared at Buffy with pure hatred, but Buffy still avoided looking her in the eye. She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. The creature crouched with an angry hiss, unconcerned with the injured shoulder. She lunged again, but when Buffy tried to sidestep her once more, she closed with the Slayer, striking out with lethal claws.

Buffy caught one of the girl's wrists in her left hand and stabbed down with the knife. It bit deep into the creature's chest with suspicious ease. The creature looked down at the injury and shrugged. Then she backhanded Buffy hard enough to send her flying backwards. She landed and rolled to her knees, eyes finding the creature again. The girl rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck.

"This is getting boring," she saidd with a pout. Then she grinned. "Time for some fun." With that the girl's skin began to stretch, her body distorting, growing. The skin began to split and shred, and something else entirely emerged. It was about the size of a grizzly bear and shaped more or less like a bat. Its skin was rubbery and dark, except on its head and neck, where it was crimson red. The membranes of its wings were shredded and useless, but the claws at the wingtips were razor sharp. Its face was hideous, with huge, bulging eyes and a flat nose. Needle-like teeth protruded from its sneering mouth.

"Time to eat you up, now!" the monster said, and its voice was still the little girl singsong. Buffy shuddered at the horror of the dichotomy. It pounced on Buffy, claws flashing out. Buffy dove to the side, underneath one crooked wing, and rolled gracefully to her feet. She spun around on her toes, striking out with the knife. It caught the beast's arm but only bounced off the thick hide. Buffy gulped.

"Oh, crap," she muttered. Not seeing many other options, she took one look at the creature she was up against and bolted. The thing laughed and skittered after her, bounding along on short legs and long arms. Buffy risked a look behind her and spat another curse, speeding up. She sprinted along the ravine as fast as she could, casting around for something, _anything_, that would giver her an advantage.

Something big and dark moved out of the corner of her eye, launching itself from the edge of the ravine toward Buffy. The Slayer ducked to the side and bolted forward again, only to realize at the last minute that it was the Bad Wolf. The Wolf landed on the bed of the ravine and whirled to face the bat-monster. A deep growl exploded from her chest, and the stones under Buffy's feet trembled with the sound. She skidded to a halt and turned to watch the confrontation, her breath rasping in her throat.

The bat-monster skidded to a halt in front of the Bad Wolf, bobbing slightly back and forth as it studied the new opposition. "Doggy come to play?" it mocked. The Bad Wolf's lips peeled back, revealing long, sharp teeth that could punch through Buffy's hand with no problems. The bat-monster tittered. "My, what big teeth you have!"

The Bad Wolf crouched, head low and ears back. The bat-monster crouched as well, eying the Wolf. They lunged at the same time, moving in slightly-curved trajectories that brought them onto their hind legs, trying to gain the advantage over the other. Teeth flashed toward throats and buried into skin. Both of them missed the jugular vein but Buffy still winced as blood matted the Wolf's fur down. The Wolf shook her head, trying to dislodge the bat-monster's hold and inflict as much damage at the same time. The creature shrieked in anger and pain and released the Wolf, only to bring one clawed arm up to raked down the Wolf's side.

The Bad Wolf twisted away from the worst of the blow but still suffered a deep gash down her ribs. She was forced to let go and backed away from her opponent, growling deep in her chest. Buffy closely examined her ally's wounds, but they didn't seem to bother the Wolf. Seeing that she was okay, Buffy turned and began scaling the side of the ravine. Neither of the creatures below her noticed her departure.

The bat-monster scuttled crab-like from side to side, black blood dripping from the wounds on its neck and smeared over the scarlet skin of its face. Its eyes never left the Bad Wolf, who met its gaze evenly, showing no signs of succumbing to the creature's sway. The Bad Wolf crouched again, and the bat-monster tensed, preparing for another attack. The Wolf indeed lunged and the bat-monster tucked its chin to protect its neck, but the Wolf changed directions at the last moment and instead closed her teeth over its bony shoulder.

The beast shrieked again and flopped backwards, flailing its useless wings in an effort to get free. The Wolf hung grimly on, tightening her jaws as blood welled up around her lips. Even when the bat-monster raked her sides again, she only twisted her head sharply, satisfied by a loud crack as the joint splintered. She let go and jumped out of striking distance.

The bat-monster keened in pain as it tried to stand on all fours but its injured shoulder buckled underneath it, causing it to stumble. It sat back on its haunches, gathering the injured arm against its side. It turned its weak side away from the Wolf, snarling as blood and saliva dripped from its jaws.

The Bad Wolf snarled in reply and stepped forward to meet the challenge, only to have her front right leg nearly give under her. Pain exploded along her right side. Her wounds had been worse than she thought. The bat-monster must have sensed her distress because it cried out in triumph and pounced, good arm swinging down with bone-cracking force. The Bad Wolf dodged to the side, but moved a second too slow. Her opponent's arm caught her in the ribs and slammed her into the side of the ravine. She fell to the ground and didn't rise, blood trickling from her nostrils.

The bat-monster shuffled forward to loom over the Wolf, gloating to itself. It reached out with its claws, poised to rip and tear and shred, and then Buffy landed on its shoulders. The unexpected weight of the Slayer coming down on the back of its neck sent it stumbling forward, giving Buffy the opportunity to slam her knife into the back of the creature's skull with all her Slayer strength. The blade pierced skin and bone and snapped off at the hilt, leaving the blade inside the creature's brain. With an ear-piercing squeal, it pitched forward and lay still.

Buffy picked herself up from where the monster's fall had thrown her and ran over to the Bad Wolf's side. The Wolf was attempting to stand, legs shaky and weak. "Hey, hey, hey," Buffy said. "Take it easy. You look terrible."

The Bad Wolf gave up and collapsed back onto her stomach. "Your timing was impeccable," she panted, sounding grateful. Buffy shrugged modestly.

"That's me. Always on time. Except to school. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No," the Wolf replied. "The wounds will heal on their own."

Buffy turned to eye their enemy's corpse balefully. "What the _hell_ was that thing?"

"The Red Hood," the Bad Wolf explained. "We are old enemies, she and I. It is an ally of the Huntsman's. She would have wanted to avenge his death."

"Well, you won't have to worry about her anymore," Buffy said darkly. "That's one less on your enemy list."

The Bad Wolf laughed weakly. "I'm sorry to say, but you didn't kill her, Slayer. The Red Hood is immortal. She will regenerate in a few days."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Holy crap. Is she going to come after me again?"

"Undoubtedly," the Wolf replied. Buffy groaned, but the Wolf went on, "I will see to it that she does not succeed. While you are in these mountains, you are under my protection." Buffy looked at her quizzically. "If you had not done what you did, the Red Hood would have won this battle. I am in your debt, Slayer."

"Uh, yeah. No prob," Buffy said. She settled into a more comfortable position. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?"

"You've already done enough," the Wolf assured her. "I will by daybreak."

Buffy nodded. "Okay." The Bad Wolf blew out a long sigh and lowered her head onto her front paws, her eyes drifting closed. Buffy watched as the animal's breathing evened out. She then got up and moved closer, careful not to touch the Wolf, in order to examine the wounds. They were deep but not life-threatening, and had already ceased bleeding. Buffy wished she had some water to wash the blood from the Wolf's magnificent coat, but she didn't dare leave in search of some.

She herself was exhausted, but she didn't think she could sleep with the body of the Red Hood so close, so she re-took her spot by the Wolf's head and settled in to wait for morning. She found herself watching the Wolf sleep, noting the miniscule twitches of her ears and the slight shifts of her body. The starlight gave enough illumination to make out the symbol on her brow, beautiful and unfamiliar. Buffy drew the symbol into the dirt with her finger several times in order to commit it to memory. Finally, completely against her will, she found herself drifting towards unconsciousness.

On the other side of the Red Hood's body, Death stepped out of the shadows and looked down at the two sleeping warriors. Reaching under his robe, he pulled out the silver hourglass and held it up. The top chamber was now nearly half full. He eyed it for a moment.

I SUPPOSE THAT'S A LITTLE BETTER, he said with a sigh.

XxxXxxX

Jenny's condition had worsened while Angel had been looking for Buffy. When he'd returned at sunset, she'd been unconscious again, her temperature dangerously high. Angel moved her to one of the bedrooms, building a fire in that fireplace and piling blankets on top of the gypsy woman. Phoebe watched with worried eyes, silently hovering just out of the way. Throughout the night Angel remained by Jenny's side as her temperature rose even further and she tossed and turned in the throes of some fevered nightmare. Angel managed to get her to drink a little water and he made a thin vegetable broth. With Phoebe's help, he managed to find a small chest of medicines and found a bottle of vile-smelling liquid that the label declared was for fevers. But when he managed to get Jenny to swallow some, she almost immediately brought it back up along with all the water and broth she'd managed to take in.

"Is she going to be all right?" Phoebe asked softly around sunrise. She looked pale and haggard, shadows circling her eyes, just as she had looked when Angel had woken up from his dragon-poison-induced coma.

"Of course she will," Angel told her, stroking his hand over her disheveled hair. She glowered at him without much heat.

"You're only saying that to make me feel better," she accused. "I hate it when adults treat me like that. You don't have to lie to me, Angel."

He sighed. "I'm sorry." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't have much experience with this kind of medical treatment. What I do know tends to lean towards treating battle wounds."

Phoebe nodded wearily and leaned her head against Angel. On impulse, he bent and placed a light kiss against her hair. "Why don't you get some sleep," he suggested. She hesitated, but he nudged her toward the door. "I can take care of Jenny. You need to rest." She hesitated a moment longer, and then acquiesced.

"Okay. But wake me up if you need me," she told him before shuffling out of the sick room. Angel turned and picked up the cup of water on the table, determined to get Jenny to take a few more sips. A quiet knock on the front door startled him and he splashed a few drops onto Jenny's cheek. He put the cup down with a frown and padded out of the room. As he went, he grabbed his knife off the table.

The front room was empty and silent except for the crackling of the fire. The knock sounded again, this time accompanied by a voice. "Angel? Are you there? It's me. Let me in."

Relief flooded through Angel's chest as he recognized the voice. He hurried to the door and threw back the lock, pulling it open. "Buffy!"

XxxXxxX

Buffy stood at the bottom of the rough stairs leading to the station house. She turned to look at the Bad Wolf beside her. "Well, I guess we made it," she said. The Wolf, who had been limping and moving stiffly since they started out at dawn, dropped onto her haunches.

"I guess we did," she replied, her lips curling into something resembling a smile. Buffy stepped onto the first stair.

"You coming?" she asked when the Bad Wolf made no move to follow. The Wolf tilted her head.

"I am more comfortable out here," she said. "I will wait for you."

"Okay." Buffy paused for a moment, wondering what to say. She finally settled on, "See you later, then," and began climbing the staircase. She only planned on staying long enough to get a change of clothes, some supplies, and possibly a new weapon before setting out to find Angel and the others. The Wolf had mentioned on the way here that she had some ideas on where they might have ended up. As she reached the door, she went to push it open only to find that it was already ajar. She paused, frowning, and finally entered the building.

There was a fire burning cheerfully in the fireplace. Buffy stood in the doorway and stared at it in confusion. Next to the fireplace were a couple of blankets and a pile of abandoned clothing. Buffy stepped over the threshold, her foot kicking something metallic over the stone floor. She looked down and froze. Slowly going to one knee, Buffy reached down and picked the object up.

It was Angel's knife.

XXXXXX

Look! A fourth update! I'm on a roll!

Okay. A couple of you have pointed out somethings that I wanted to make clear. Yes. I have borrowed from a few other fandoms, namely Doctor Who, Stargate: SG-1, and Discworld. I am not advertising this story as a crossover, but with all the dimension-hopping Angel and Buffy are doing, it stands to reason they'd meet some weird people.


	22. Chapter 22

The Bad Wolf rose to her feet as Buffy hurled herself down the stairs. "They're gone," the Slayer blurted as she reached the bottom. The Wolf blinked at her, bemused.

"Who is gone?" the Wolf demanded.

"My friends, they're gone. They were here, and now they're gone," Buffy babbled, clawing her fingers through her hair.

"The vampire and the child," the Bad Wolf clarified. "They were in the station house?"

"I found their old clothes," Buffy said. "But there's no trace of them. Angel's knife was lying on the floor in front of the door. He wouldn't leave without his weapon. Something must have happened to them." As she spoke, she grew increasingly agitated, waving her hands in the air.

The Bad Wolf blew out a weary breath. She wasn't fully recovered from her battle with the Red Hood and she wasn't looking forward to another crisis. "Show me," she ordered. Buffy turned and bolted back up the steps. Staircases weren't the easiest things for canines to navigate even during the best of times, and with her injuries it took the Bad Wolf a good deal longer to reach the station house.

Buffy was waiting inside the main room when the Wolf stuck her head in. A couple of charred logs smouldered on the hearth. The Wolf examined the room closely and sniffed carefully. "You gained a third companion?" she asked.

"Yeah. Jenny. An old friend," Buffy said distractedly. The Bad Wolf noted the new scent and lowered her head, snuffling along the threshold. Her eyes narrowed and she raised her head again.

"What did you find?"

"Angel's knife was right here," Buffy pointed. "There were blankets and Phoebe's clothes in front of the fireplace. There was a fire burning. The kitchen's been used; there's some soup in a pan on the stove. They used one of the bedrooms; I found Angel and Jenny's old clothes in there."

The Bad Wolf put her ears back. "Change your clothing. Put on something warm. You will need a coat. And gather supplies. We won't have time to forage."

Buffy's eyes widened. "What is it?" she demanded, her voice strong.

"Your companions left in a hurry," the Bad Wolf replied. "And they didn't leave willingly."

The Slayer's face hardened. "What took them?"

"I don't know," the Wolf admitted. "There are many things that roam these mountains, and few of them leave scent behind. But I can trace the scent of your companions. The vampire's...his is strong."

Buffy nodded and hurried off. She returned fifteen minutes later, wearing more suitable clothing under a forest green leather coat. She stopped in the kitchen and threw whatever wasn't perishable into a haversack. When she rejoined the Bad Wolf at the doorway, she showed the Wolf a short sword in a battered leather scabbard. "I found this in the closet. Is it okay if I take it?"

"Whatever is in the station house is available to the travelers," the Wolf replied. "Come. We may not have much time."

The Slayer looked grim and hung the sword at her waist. "I'm ready."

XxxXxxX

Death waited in a dark alley.

He was unnoticed and inconspicuous, despite the fact he was a seven-foot-tall skeleton shrouded in a black cloak and standing underneath a streetlamp. His scythe was not in his hand, though that didn't mean it wasn't with him. Instead, he was holding a ballpoint pen and a notebook with a picture of a kitten on the front.

He looked at a certain spot in the alley, tucked behind a garbage dumpster. Then, as easy as a human would blink, he switched time lines. Now two young women, one blonde and one brunette, crouched over a man slumped against the wall, a gaping hole in his chest. The brunette woman held a wooden stake in her hand, blood coating the bottom six inches. Death watched and waited and, sure enough, that reality splintered and shattered before his eyes.

He scratched a few words down in his notebook, his handwriting old-fashioned and spidery. He looked up again and switched time lines once more. Like the previous one, it shattered after only a few minutes. He tried a third, and then a fourth, but neither of them lasted long.

IT IS GETTING WORSE, he observed grimly. He returned himself to the original time line just in time to see the man creep cautiously into the ally, checking behind himself as if afraid he was being followed. Death reached into his robe and pulled out an bronze hourglass. The name along the top read "A. Finch." It was almost empty. Death lowered the hourglass and eyed Finch.

IT APPEARS THAT YOU WILL NOT AVOID ME NO MATTER WHAT TIME LINE SURVIVES, he told the man gravely, but Finch didn't hear him. There was a loud commotion from the other end of the ally and the brunette woman appeared. She was battling three opponents at once, and the struggle carried them toward Finch's hiding place and the invisible observer. The woman drove her weapon into the chest of one of her enemies, turning him to dust. Death made no move. He'd already reaped the soul that belonged in the body. What happened to the body afterward was none of his concern.

One by one the other two vampires were dispatched, and Finch decided to make his move. He approached the young woman cautiously, but had the bad fortune to trip and make a noise just as he reached her. The woman spun around, stake flashing out. It pierced Finches chest, just above his heart. He stumbled backwards, slumping against the wall.

Faith stared down at him in horror. "Oh, shit," she said. "Oh my God." She dropped to one knee, still staring at the injured man in shock. "I—I didn't know. I didn't see... Oh, shit."

Finch gasped for breath as blood began filling his lungs. "Need to tell..." he panted. "Need to tell you..."

Faith abruptly leaned forward, pressing her hand to the wound. "No, just...just relax. I—I'll get some help. Just hang on, okay?"

Finch grabbed her wrist. "Need to tell you...Mayor." His voice was fading. "He will rise. You have to...you have to stop him." Faith barely heard him. His blood was smeared on her hands and she stared down at them in shock. Finch released her wrist. "They're following me," he told her weakly. "Go. Before they... Go."

The brunette Slayer got unsteadily to her feet, holding her bloody hands away from her. Footsteps approached and Finch coughed wetly. "Go!" he wheezed. Faith, too overwhelmed to think clearly, turned and fled.

Death continued to watch silently as a second man walked around the dumpster to stand over Finch. The injured man stared up defiantly despite the blood bubbling from his lips. "You're too late," he rasped.

Death looked down at the hourglass in his hand. The second man took a pistol out of his jacket and leveled it at Finch. Two silenced gunshots spat out in the alley just as the last grains of sand flowed down from the top chamber. Death bent down and, with utmost gentleness, touched Allen Finch on the forehead. There was a brief flash of golden light, and then the mortal shell was empty.

Death straightened and tucked the hourglass and notebook away. THERE IS MUCH WORK TO DO, he declared. I HOPE THE SLAYER IS UP TO THE TASK. BOTH OF THEM.

XxxXxxX

There was the void, and then there were them. The three figures nearly as formless as their surroundings, arranged in a perfect triangle.

One said: He cannot be involved. He is not permitted.

One said: He has done nothing we can prove.

One said: He interfered. He allowed the Slayer to break the Red Hood's bindings.

One said: He moved a rock. He moved a single rock a single inch. We cannot prove that it was interference.

One said: We have the Vampire and the child. We even have the Revenant creature. The Slayer will have no choice but to pursue them. When she does, our conduit will neutralize them all.

One said: That is one good thing about the champions of the Powers. They are all predictable.

One said: They are not predictable. They are not logical. They are ruled by emotion. That is why they must be eliminated.

One said: I only meant that they are unpredictable in consistent manners.

One said: As long as He does not interfere, everything will go according to plan.

One said: The problem is that He has the abhorrent tendency to display affection for the ephemerals.

One said: We could—wait a moment. Did you say "I"?

One said: What? No, of course I didn't. Oh, shi—

One of the three figures abruptly dissolved into mist and atoms. In its place appeared another figure, indistinguishable from the one it replaced.

One said: Let that be a lesson to us. To be individual is to live. To live is to die. Moving on. How close is the Slayer to falling into our trap?

One said: Very close. This time, she will not escape.

XxxXxxX

"We have a problem." Those were her first words to him when she reappeared next to him, agitation rippling through her aura.

"They are gone," he said at the same time, too distressed to coalesce fully.

For a moment she didn't react, her presence frozen and stiff. "What?" she finally asked flatly.

"The Vampire, the child, and the gypsy," he went on reluctantly. "They were in the station house. Then they were gone. I cannot find them anywhere."

Instead of exploding into fury, she merely wilted. He dithered, completely taken off guard. "What is it?" he demanded. "What has happened?"

"Death has taken a personal interest in the Slayer," she told him glumly. "And you know what that means."

"The Auditors," he replied, wilting in his own turn. "Oh, dear."

"It gets worse," she continued. "The time lines are beginning to deteriorate. If something isn't done, the whole multiverse is going to shatter. In all dimensions."

That shocked him speechless, his presence colorless with horror. "What are we going to do?" he whispered.

"The Auditors are trying to kill the Slayer and the Vampire," she went on. "If they do, nothing will stop the destruction of reality. Those two are the only ones who can fix this. We don't have a choice."

"What if he won't speak to us?" he asked hesitantly. "You know how he gets around existential powers."

"If he won't help us," she said grimly. "All is lost."

XxxXxxX

Buffy watched anxiously as the Bad Wolf paced back and forth over the rocky ground, her head lowered. This was the third time she'd lost the scent, and it was taking her longer to find it again. She finally lifted her head, sneezed, and loped off. Buffy scrambled to follow, picking her way over the difficult terrain. They had thankfully remained below the snow line, but it was still bitterly cold. They'd spent most of the day clambering up and down the mountainsides, covering miles of ground in their pursuit of Buffy's missing friends.

"We are getting close," the Wolf told Buffy. "The child's scent is getting stronger, as well as that of the woman's."

"And Angel's?" Buffy demanded. The Wolf's ears twitched.

"His is the same as ever."

"Are they alive?" Buffy asked, steeling herself for the reply.

"The females are," the Wolf assured her. "As for the vampire, well, if he were dead, he would not be present, correct?"

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, relief washing over her. They fell once more into silence, but about an hour later, Buffy stopped dead in her tracks and refused to move. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," she said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

The Bad Wolf looked at her over her shoulder, golden eyes glowing in the twilight of the cave mouth. "You want to find your companions, yes?" she asked, a little irritated.

"Cave," Buffy pointed out. "Me. Not mixy things. Something _always_ tries to kill me."

The Wolf continued to stare at her expectantly. Buffy sighed, drew her borrowed sword out of its sheath, and stepped into the cave. A shiver passed over her spin as she left the cold sunlight for the deep shadows. There was no light except for the soft glow of the Bad Wolf's eyes, which managed to partially illuminate the area directly around them.

Buffy knew her other senses were drastically increased by her Slayer powers, so she focused on her hearing, willing it to grow sharper and sharper until she could hear the echoes of their breathing against the cavern walls. That was why she was already alert when the Bad Wolf growled out a warning. Something—several somethings—skittered out of the depths towards them, moving impossibly fast. Buffy couldn't get a good sense of them, only that they didn't quite reach her waist and that they had far too many legs.

One of them lunged at Buffy, leaping several feet in the air as it aimed for her face, but she dodged to the side and brought her sword up. It sheared through two of the spindly legs and the creature thumped down on the ground with a high-pitched squeal. Buffy plunged her sword into the thing's abdomen, pinning it to the sandy floor. Glistening goo spilled out from the wound and the creature twitched a couple of times before going still.

Buffy yanked her sword out and swung around, searching for the next one, but she was not the center of attention. The Bad Wolf was nearly engulfed by the creatures, and no matter how many times she snapped and clawed, she couldn't shake them off. Buffy bounded over to her ally's aid, and in the golden glow that surrounded the Wolf, she got her first good look at the attackers.

They reminded her of spiders: ten hairy legs and sagging, fleshy bodies. Their heads were set on thin necks and were covered in black, beady eyes. Huge tusks protruded from their wide mouths, and it was only the Bad Wolf's thick fur that protected her from being ripped apart.

Buffy swept the head off one of the spider-creature's neck with her sword. The head tumbled to the ground with a wet splat, but the body didn't stop moving. It continued to cling at the Wolf's fur, the hooked claws at the end of the legs still trying to reach vulnerable skin. Buffy's sword flashed out again, slicing its body open along its length. Greenish-black goo poured out of the slash and the headless corpse crumpled to the ground.

That attracted the attention of a few of the remaining monsters. One tried to repeat the failed tactic of the first, flinging itself at Buffy's face. She impaled it in midair, but before she could free her sword, another flung itself at her legs, knocking her onto her back. It skittered over on top of her, tusks flashing toward her throat, but Buffy caught them in her hands, ignoring the pain as the edges cut into her palms. They struggled for a moment, testing their strength against each other, and then Buffy twisted as hard as she could, wrenching the head from the creature's neck and tossing it aside. The body flopped and floundered until Buffy put it out of its misery.

The Bad Wolf managed to catch one of the spider-creatures under her paws and crushed it to a pulp with a snarl of satisfaction. The surviving two seemed to take their losses into consideration and vanished, leaving the two warriors panting and splattered with gore.

Buffy's legs gave out and she landed on the ground, shaking from head to toe. The Wolf was at her side in a flash, nosing her gently. "Are you injured?" she demanded. Buffy shook her head, ignoring the cuts on her hands.

"I really, really don't like spiders," she said through chattering teeth. She put her head down between her up-drawn knees and continued to shake for several more minutes. Then the Bad Wolf pressed her cold, wet nose to the side of Buffy's neck. Buffy yelped in surprise and toppled over.

"We need to keep moving," The Wolf said, looking down at her. Buffy got unsteadily to her feet and retrieved her sword.

"Yeah," she agreed shakily. She pointedly did not look down at the corpses as they passed among them deeper into the cavern. Not much further on, the cave abruptly split into several tunnels. The Bad Wolf snuffled at each opening for a long time before finally choosing the leftmost one. Buffy kept her senses alert for any more spider-creatures, but the only sound was their breathing and sand-muffled footfalls.

The passageway began to narrow until they had to go single-file, and even further still until the sides brushed against the Bad Wolf's fur. Buffy was fighting an increasing feeling of claustrophobia, but the Wolf didn't seem bothered that she couldn't even turn around anymore. Then, just as Buffy thought she would break, they emerged into open space.

The new cavern felt vast, the air moist and full of dripping noises. Buffy couldn't see beyond a few feet, but a faint breeze ruffled her hair. "Where now?" she whispered to the Wolf, only to have her voice thrown across the cavern in bouncing echoes.

In reply, the Wolf scented first the air and then the ground, grains of white sand clinging to her nose. She seemed about to reply when she froze, her eyes widening. She managed a strangled yelp before something vast and dark rushed toward them. There was a flash of light, and then Buffy knew no more.


	23. Chapter 23

The sun was shining through the window, falling directly on Buffy's face. She woke up with a faint groan, turning her face away from the brightness. She buried her face in her pillow, breathing in the faint scent of detergent lingering from laundry day. As she lay there, enjoying the last few minutes before her alarm went off, something niggled at the back of her mind. Something she'd forgotten...

The history exam!

The alarm went off and Buffy flailed at her nightstand until it fell silent. She rolled reluctantly out of bed, shuffling over to her closet. It took her ten minutes to decide between the yellow top and the blue dress so she had to rush through her shower. As she toweled her hair, her gaze fell on the fogged mirror.

A monstrous face leered at her from the other side of the condensation and Buffy jumped back with a faint scream. Her heart pounding, she stared at the mirror for a long time. Then she stepped forward and deliberately wiped her hand across the mist. Her own reflexion stared back at her: green eyes wide with fear but still bright, face soft with youth and innocence, her body curved and padded from a mostly sedentary life. She shuddered and dressed quickly.

"G'morning, sweetie," her mom greeted as Buffy came into the kitchen, dropping her bag by the door. Buffy grunted a reply and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on her way to the refrigerator for some juice. Joyce eyed her meager breakfast. "Are you feeling all right, honey?" she asked.

"Fine," Buffy replied absently. "Guess I'm not really awake yet." Joyce hummed to herself and finished her coffee.

Buffy stared out the window during the drive to school, still fighting the vague feeling that she was missing something. Her head whipped around when she finally noticed what was playing on the radio. She leaned forward to turn up the volume. It was a man's voice, rhythmic and gentle.

"I am stretched on your grave  
And I'll lie there forever.  
If your hands were in mine  
I'd be sure they would not sever.  
My apple tree, my brightness,  
It's time we were together  
For I smell of the earth  
And I'm worn by the weather."

Buffy frowned. "Have you heard this somewhere? It sounds familiar."

Joyce shook her head. "No, can't say I have. Are you sure you've heard it before?"

"I don't know," Buffy said, suddenly uncertain. With a frustrated huff, she turned the radio off and remained in sullen silence until she reached the school. Willow caught up with her as she climbed the stairs.

"You remembered to study for your history exam, right?" the redhead said brightly, linking her arm through Buffy's. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Stayed up all night," she assured her friend. "Where's Xander?"

"She speaks, and I appear!" Xander declared theatrically, joining them. He swept a deep bow. "I am at your command, fair maiden." Buffy laughed and punched his shoulder playfully.

"Hey, Buffy, Xander and I were gonna do a movie night tomorrow at my house," Willow said. "You wanna come? We'll have pizza and munchies. Unless you have something else you have to do at night," she continued in a rush.

Buffy patted her arm. "Nope. My nights are completely task-free. I'd love to come over. Here's my class. Wish me luck!" She left her friends and ducked into her history class, taking her seat just as the bell rang.

The test wasn't as difficult as she had anticipated. In fact, about halfway through she zoned out, writing down answers mostly on autopilot. As she finished, she put down her pencil and went to check over her answers. To her dismay, she realized that she had answered each question with the same strange symbol, over and over and over. The symbol tugged at her memory and she traced it onto her desk, feeling coarse dirt under her finger instead of smooth wood. Then the teacher announced the end of class and Buffy had no choice but to turn the test in.

The next few classes passed in a blur, punctuated by a heated confrontation with Harmony and a strangely mellow one with Cordelia. Buffy found herself wandering into the library after lunch, a book list clutched in one hand. She looked around but there was no one to be seen. "Hello?" she called.

The librarian appeared out from his office, sliding on a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. Buffy had seen him a couple of times before but could never remember his name. "May I help you?" he asked in a cultured British accent.

Buffy shoved her list at him. "I need these books for American Lit," she said absently. The librarian took the list and glanced over it.

"Yes. Wait here." He vanished between the stacks. Buffy glanced around the library, noticing details she had never seen before. There was a wire book cage against one wall that had a padlock, and the large wooden table was arranged directly below the skylight. She walked over to the table and circled it carefully. The nagging feeling returned. It was almost on the tip of her tongue, the thing that she needed to remember. It was something about this place...

"Here you are." At the sound of the librarian's voice, Buffy shrieked and spun around, clutching her chest as her heart raced. He blinked at her, startled at her reaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said after a minute.

"I'm just a little jumpy today, I guess," Buffy replied. She reached out and took the pile of books from him. "Thanks."

"Of course."

As Buffy left, she looked down at the books in her arms. The top one was a volume of Grimm's Fairytales, with a picture of Little Red Riding Hood on the front. The books tumbled from her arms and scattered over the floor.

Buffy stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at herself in the eye. "I'm not going crazy," she said, trying to convince herself. "I'm not going crazy." She took a deep breath. "I'm not going crazy."

She leaned forward, clutching at the sink with both hands. "Then why does it feel like I'm going crazy?" Her reflection provided no answer, only miming her gestures in silent mockery. In a sudden surge of fury, Buffy punched the mirror with all her strength. The mirror was unharmed, but her reflection shattered into a thousand pieces. What now stood before her was still undeniably her, but also irrevocably changed.

The light was gone from her eyes, leaving them hard and clear as green glass. Her face was all harsh planes and angles, lined and weary. Her golden hair, once long and lustrous, was hacked off inexpertly just below the shoulders. All softness had vanished from her body and she wore a long, green leather coat. Her right hand clutched a sword, its edge crusted in some dark substance.

"You are a strong fighter, Slayer."

At the voice behind her, Buffy whirled around. She was in a cemetery and night had fallen. The sword from the reflection was in her hand, and when she shifted her weight, she realized she was wearing the coat, as well. A couple yards in front of her stood the biggest wolf she'd ever seen. Its eyes glowed golden and on its brow rested the symbol Buffy had traced again and again on her history exam.

"What?" she asked ingeniously. Every instinct in her body said that she should be running, that this wolf was dangerous, but her feet remained firmly in place.

"You saw through the construct on your own," the wolf said, her eyes never leaving Buffy's. "You knew it was false, and you broke through. I only hope your friends are as strong as you, or they will not make it through this."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy demanded.

The wolf looked around, suddenly distracted. "This is your dimension?" she asked curiously. "It is...not what I expected."

"This is a _graveyard_," Buffy said with exasperation, trying to gesture with her right hand and belatedly remembering it still held the sword. "What am I doing here?"

"This is where your mind brought you," the wolf replied. "This—all of this—is inside your own mind. It is meant to incapacitate you. She spins you a world of your greatest wish and allows you to become ensnared within it. Then she drains your life force at her pleasure."

"Who?" Buffy asked, feeling completely lost.

"The Crone," the wolf said impatiently. "She took your companions and then she captured us. I had to fight through my own construct to reach you. We have to find the others."

Buffy rubbed her forehead with her left hand. "The others," she murmured. "...My friends." She frowned. "I think I remember..."

The wolf stared at her intensely, waiting. Buffy's eyes popped open. "Angel!" she exclaimed. "Oh, my God! How could I forget him?" Her head came up. "There's a girl. Phoebe. We have to get her home. And—and Jenny." She locked gazes with the animal in front of her. "And the big, Bad Wolf," she continued softly. "Of course."

Buffy glanced at her surroundings. "Okay, last I remembered, we were in a big, dark cave."

"This is a construct," the Bad Wolf began, but Buffy cut her off.

"Of my own mind. Yeah, I got that part. How do we get out of here?"

"We cannot escaped on our own," the Bad Wolf said. "We will need the combined efforts of the others the Crone has entrapped."

"Okay, how do we get to Angel and the others?" Buffy said, immediately revising her mental plan.

"As long as the Crone is feeding on all of us, we are connected, in a way," the Wolf explained. "Psychically linked to each other. We have to find our way to the others' constructs and awaken them as I did you. Then, together, we should be able to break free."

Buffy nodded. "All right. Angel first."

"He is not here," the Wolf replied. Buffy stared at her.

"What?" she asked flatly.

"He is a vampire. He has no life force. The Crone cannot feed from him." The Bad Wolf's ears twitched. "I am afraid that she would have little reason to keep him alive."

Buffy went preternaturally still. "No," she whispered. "I won't accept that."

"Slayer," the Bad Wolf said, her voice suddenly gentle. "I am sorry, but is is not likely your mate survived."

She clenched her sword until her fingers began to ache. "How do we get to Jenny and Phoebe?" she asked, her teeth gritted. The Bad Wolf gazed at her sadly for a moment, and then shook herself all over.

"We need to find where your construct is weakest. There we can pass from one to another."

"What kind of weak spot?" Buffy's voice was cold and emotionless.

"It will hold a great deal of emotional significance to you. A place where something happened that irrevocably changed you."

Buffy nodded grimly. "I know the place."

The mansion was exactly as Buffy remembered it. Which made sense, seeing as how it was made out of her memories. She approached it cautiously, every sense alert for any sign of danger. The Wolf padded almost silently behind her, a solid presence that had, sometime during the past few days, become comforting.

Buffy stepped into the garden, the moonlight painting the courtyard in shadow and silver. She looked around and set off toward the door. Movement to her left was her only warning when the vampire lunged out of the darkness toward her.

She spun out of the way, allowing the vampire to fly past her. Before it could recover and launch another attack, Buffy lunged, sweeping her sword in a tight arc. The vampire's head toppled from its shoulders and exploded into dust before it hit the ground. The rest of the body followed shortly thereafter. Buffy stalked toward the door again, only to have it fly off its hinges and seven more vampires burst out.

Buffy brushed dust off her coat and glared around the courtyard. "It's gonna take a lot more than that to slow me down!" she yelled at the sky. Beside her, the Bad Wolf shook herself vigorously, sending up a cloud of dust from her fur.

"We should move on before the Crone sends more against us," she said. Buffy slammed her sword back into its sheath and strode across the dust-strewn courtyard. The statue of Acathla stood where she had left him, her sword through his chest. Buffy stopped several yards away from the object, her arms crossed.

"This is it," she told the Bad Wolf. "This is where we went to hell."

The Wolf nodded and stepped forward, nosing the air. "The construct is weak here. We should be able to push through."

Buffy joined the Wolf and her boot came down on something small and metal. She lifted her foot away and stared at the tiny silver circlet on the stone floor. She bent down and picked it up, and then the world tilted sideways.

Buffy bolted upright with a cry, tripped over her own feet, and fell bodily against the Bad Wolf, only managing to keep herself off the ground by grabbing double fistfuls of the Wolf's thick fur. When the world stopped spinning, she warily opened her eyes and looked around.

They were in a room. Or maybe chamber was a better word. Whatever it was, it was massive, and the ceiling was a dome that reached all the way down to the floor. At the dome's apex was a huge skylight that showed the twinkling stars and a sliver of moon. Surrounding the Slayer and the Wolf were row upon row of bookshelves filling the entire area, interspersed here and there with circles of comfy-looking chairs. The whole place was light by gas lanterns, giving it a cozy, golden glow.

"Whose construct is this?" Buffy asked, blinking as she looked around.

The Bad Wolf scented the air. "The child. Phoebe. Her scent is everywhere."

Buffy released her hold on the Wolf. "Right then. Let's go get her."

It didn't take them long to find the girl. Directly underneath the skylight was a roaring fire pit, and in front of the fire, Phoebe sat curled up in the lap of a beautiful woman in a dark red gown. Her hair fell in golden-brown waves, bound only by a fillet of silver around her brow. Her eyes were the same pale blue as Phoebe's, and her voice as she read aloud was rich and melodious.

Phoebe looked up as the two warriors approached. Her face brightened into a joyful grin and she scrambled down from the woman's lap to fling herself at Buffy, wrapping her arms around the older girl's waist. "Buffy!" she exclaimed in delight. "You came!"

Buffy hugged Phoebe back. "Of course I came," she said. "It's my job to protect you, remember?"

Phoebe pulled back to look up at her. "Not anymore. Not since we made it home," she said, her smile fading slightly. "You're going to have to leave soon, aren't you?"

Buffy went down on one knee to look Phoebe in the eye. "Phoebe, sweetheart, we haven't made it to your home yet," she said gently.

The girl's face clouded with confusion. "But we're here," she insisted. "And my mother," she turned to look over her shoulder at the woman, who was watching them intently. Phoebe turned back to look at Buffy. "Of course we made it home. Don't you remember?"

"This isn't real, none of it," Buffy said, shaking her head. "It's just a dream made up by a big bad monster who's trying to eat us."

Phoebe pulled away from Buffy. "No!" she cried, balling her hands into fists. "It's _not_!" She fled back to the woman and hurled herself back into her lap. The woman wrapped her arms around the girl, stroking her hair and murmuring soothingly. Buffy shot the Bad Wolf a look, but the Wolf only put her ears back.

"You know the child better than I," she pointed out. Buffy sighed and walked forward.

"Phoebe," she called. "Honey, I need you to trust me on this. Please. You have to come with us. It's important."

Phoebe shuddered but didn't uncoil from the ball of misery she had curled up in. Buffy walked closer, close enough to touch the child, but when she reached out, the woman's eyes snapped up to meet Buffy's. The woman hissed threateningly, and for a moment something hideous flashed behind her face.

Buffy yanked her sword from its sheath. "Let her go," she ordered in an icy voice. The woman hissed again and hunched possessively over the girl. "Phoebe," Buffy called in a low voice. "I need you to come with me. Now."

Phoebe peeked at Buffy from around the woman's arms, face streaked with tears. "What is going on?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"That is not your mom," Buffy said urgently. "I know she looks like it, but you have to trust me." She stretched out her left hand warily. "Come on, Phoebe. Please."

The girl looked from Buffy to the woman, who was still glaring at Buffy, her teeth bared. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to disentangle herself from the woman's grip and reached out to Buffy. But the moment their hands touched, the woman screeched in anger and lunged toward Buffy, her face transforming.

Her mouth gaped open, revealing crooked, razor teeth. Her eyes grew huge and dark. Her skin turned corpse-blue and flaky and her reaching fingers turned into sharp claws. Phoebe shrieked and dove to the side, tucking and rolling to get out of the way. Buffy brought her sword up but the monster parried it with her claws with no problem. She pushed Buffy back with hideous strength, driving the Slayer to the ground.

The Bad Wolf hit the monster like a wrecking ball, smashing her away from Buffy with a deep growl. Buffy lifted herself up on one elbow to see what was going on. The Wolf stood with her back to Buffy, the body of the monster pinned beneath her paws. Buffy got unsteadily to her feet, retrieving her sword, and the Wolf looked around, blood dripping from her muzzle.

Buffy went straight to Phoebe and gathered the trembling child in her arms, rocking her back and forth as she cried miserably into Buffy's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Buffy murmured. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." Phoebe finally pulled away and rubbed at her eyes, sniffing loudly.

"So...a dream created by a big bad monster who wants to eat us?" she echoed with a weak attempt at a smile. Buffy stroked her hair.

"Yeah. We have to find a way out of your dream and into Jenny's so we can get out of here."

The Bad Wolf stepped over to them and Phoebe shrank away from the massive creature. The Wolf froze, took a step backwards, and used her paw to scrub the blood from her mouth. Seeing that her ally was otherwise occupied, Buffy explained to Phoebe, "There should be a weak spot in this dream. Somewhere that means something to you. That's really important."

Phoebe frowned and thought for a moment. "I think I might know where that is," she said slowly. Buffy got to her feet and helped the girl up. "It's this way," Phoebe went on, taking Buffy's hand. The Bad Wolf took a long step sideways to shield the girl's view of the imposter's corpse. Without looking backwards, the girl led them out of the library.

XxxXxxX

Jenny blinked at them in shock. Around them, the Romany village bustled with bright colors and raised voices, children and dogs darting underfoot. Buffy shifted her weight awkwardly. She, Phoebe, and the Bad Wolf stuck out like a sore thumb, and they were drawing curious and suspicious stares.

_It's just a construct,_ she reminded herself. She looked back at her former teacher. "Jenny, you have to come with us, now. The only way we can escape is if all four of us work together."

Jenny slowly put down the basket she had been carrying, never taking her eyes from Buffy's face. "What did you call me?" she asked, sounding in a daze.

Buffy frowned. "Jenny," she said slowly. "It's your name. Jenny Calender."

Jenny shook her head. "No. My name is Jana Kalderash. I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are." She turned to go but Buffy caught her arm.

"You were our computer teacher at Sunnydale High. You're a technopagan and you helped us stop the Master. You were the one who told us about the loophole in Angel's curse because it was your people who put it on him. You and Giles definitely had a thing for each other but he was too clueless to do anything about it. Come on, Jenny, we _need_ you."

Jenny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Buffy?" She blinked and looked around. "What...what are you doing here?"

"Dream, construct, bad monster trying to eat us," Buffy said tersely.

Jenny shook herself and stepped over to join them, eying the Bad Wolf cautiously. "And this is?"

"A friend," Buffy replied. "Bad Wolf, Jenny. Jenny, Bad Wolf. Look, we need to find the weak spot in your construct. Someplace with emotional significance. Ring any bells?"

They gypsy woman nodded. "Yes. This place, this is where I grew up. I would always go to the river to be alone. I loved it there."

"Great," Buffy said. "Let's go."

The four of them set out from the village, the Bad Wolf taking up the rear. Phoebe still clung to Buffy's hand, her face pale and drawn. Jenny kept shaking her head and running her fingers through her dark hair, muttering softly to herself. Finally they reached the river and walked along it until Jenny stopped them at a flat, mossy stone. She pointed.

"I use to sit here for hours and read. Anything I could get my hands on." Buffy gestured impatiently and Jenny climbed onto the rock, settling down cross-legged. Nothing happened. Jenny frowned. "What—" she began, and then everything blacked out.

Buffy's eyes flew open. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it felt like a physical presence, weighing down on her and making it difficult to breath. She stirred slightly, rolling over onto her side and pushing herself up on one elbow. "Phoebe?" she called hoarsely. "Jenny?"

"I'm here," Jenny replied from somewhere to Buffy's right.

"As am I," came the Bad Wolf's voice. Her eyes appeared a couple yards in front of Buffy, golden and familiar.

"Phoebe?" Buffy called again.

"Right here," the girl said, sounding miserable. Buffy crawled toward the sound of her voice until her hand met fabric and she gathered the girl to her chest.

"It's okay," Buffy assured her. "We'll get out of this." She raised her voice again. "Nobody would happen to have some kind of light, would they?"

Almost immediately, a gentle white glow appeared in the darkness, faint at first but steadily growing until Buffy could see first Phoebe in her arms, and then Jenny and the Wolf not far away. "What?" she asked in disbelief, looking around. Phoebe shrugged with a sheepish expression.

"You wanted light," she muttered self-consciously. Buffy stared at her.

"I don't know what you're doing, kid, but keep doing it," she said.

"Buffy," Jenny whispered urgently. Buffy looked over to the woman and found that she was staring upwards with wide eyes. Buffy followed her gaze and felt the blood drain from her face.

"Oh my God," she said weakly.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Couple of things first. Let me just say that I hated the last chapter. It just kept going on and on and I just wanted it to end. Unfortunately, it was necessary set-up for this chapter, which totally kicked my butt. Which is why this one was so delayed. Do not fret. I will not abandon this story again. Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a noodle in my eye.

XXXXXX

The cavern ceiling was completely obscured by thick, white cobwebs, sheets and sheets and layer upon layer. Dark scuttling things darted in and out of sight among the webs and the air was suddenly full of clicking sounds.

In a flash, the Bad Wolf was crouched protectively over Buffy and Phoebe, and Jenny hurriedly scooted over to join them. They remained in a tight huddle, staring around in horror. A few of the spider-things dropped down from the web and approached them, but they seemed reluctant to step into the circle of Phoebe's light.

"Phoebe," Buffy whispered. "Can you expand your coverage?"

The girl closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made a vague pushing gesture with her hands. The boundary of the light expanded, driving the spiders backwards, until only the furthest reaches of the cavern were still in shadow. Phoebe didn't relax once the task was done, her eyes remaining closed as she maintained her concentration.

"We need to find a way out," Buffy hissed at the Bad Wolf, who had been tracking the movement of a group of spiders overhead.

Jenny coughed, a wet, hacking sound from deep in her lungs. She was shivering violently, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Buffy spared her a concerned glance but had to turn her attention back to looking for a way out.

Then, in the darkest shadow still remaining, something moved. Slowly and ponderously at first, but gaining momentum, it proceeded along the ceiling, legs flicking out to grasp the strands of webbing and pull it along. The light did nothing to deter it, and it emerged into view.

It was massive, clinging upside down to the ceiling, head twisted to stare at them. Like its myriad children, it resembled a bloated, ten-legged spider, only its face was that of a hideously old woman, lank white hair straggling over her wrinkled face. As it moved closer, Buffy could see that the inside of each leg was a serrated blade that flashed in the light.

"Well done, well done, you pretty little things," the Crone rasped. Her voice was dry and papery, like that of one long dead. "Such an admirable display of teamwork. You are to be commended."

Buffy stood slowly and took a step away from the Bad Wolf. The Wolf shot her an inquiring look, but Buffy shook her head slightly. She turned to look back up at the Crone. "I'm going to kill you," she said flatly, no emotion in her voice. The Crone tilted her head mockingly.

"All by yourself? And with that itty-bitty sword? Oh, darling, I believe you've bitten off more than you can chew."

"Funny," Buffy replied. "I was about to say the same thing to you."

The Crone threw her head back and laughed, the sound grating across Buffy's ears like a band-saw. "Darling child. I had heard you were a warrior but this—this is quite something else. What a treasure you are. I think I shall keep you."

Buffy drew her sword out of her sheath. The Bad Wolf growled at her. "Slayer, don't be reckless," she rumbled warningly.

"You haven't seen me reckless," Buffy replied. She stepped forward and pointed her sword at the Crone.

"What," she demanded, "Did you do with Angel?"

The Crone laughed again. "You mean the dead thing? It was of no use to me. I gave it to my children for a plaything. It didn't last long."

A cold fury washed over Buffy, cleansing away all other emotion. Her mind was crystal clear, calmer and sharper than she had ever recalled being. She turned slowly to look at the Wolf, who put her ears back when their eyes met and whimpered softly in her throat. "Keep an eye on them for me, please," she said in a perfectly even voice. She turned back to the Crone. "You want me?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

The Crone leered at her. "I could drain you at my leisure."

Buffy crouched, bringing the hilt of her sword even with her cheek. "Come and get me."

With an ear-splitting shriek, the Crone dropped from the ceiling, flipping over in mid air. Almost before her legs touched the ground, she lunged toward Buffy, front two legs lashing out. Buffy watched the Crone come, not moving a muscle. For her, it was like time had crystallized around her. She heard every breath the Wolf took, deep drafts of air pulled into bellow-like lungs. She felt every movement of the Crone's children amidst the webs. And she studied the Crone as she approached, watching, waiting...

Buffy stepped to the side to allow one bladed leg to flash by her in a wicked hook. She twisted as she did, swinging her sword around with careful precision. It sliced into the hairy limb, a long, shallow gash that oozed black. The Crone screeched and swung another leg at her, whistling through the air with its speed. Buffy had never stopped moving, flowing into another kata that had been drilled into her by long hours in the library with Giles.

She parried a bladed leg approaching from behind and ducked as another flashed toward her head. She lunged forward, trying to get at the Crone's vulnerable underbelly, but the spider-like monster must have sensed her intent because she scuttled sideways. Buffy paused for a moment to check on her companions and saw that the baby spiders had overcome their fear of the light and surrounded the Bad Wolf, who was still standing protectively over Phoebe and Jenny, fur bristling.

Buffy saw it coming out of the corner of her eye and dove forward. A sheet of spiderweb shot through the space where she had been standing. She landed in a roll and shot to her feet, glaring at the Crone. "That's cheating," she said.

The Crone grinned. "_This_ is cheating." The air in front of Buffy shivered like a heat wave and solidified into an image of Angel. He looked exactly as he had the last time Buffy had seen him, clothing ragged and travel-worn and shaggy hair falling into his dark eyes. Buffy froze, her eyes fixed on the phantasm of her lover.

Angel reached out a hand to her, his expression longing. "Buffy," he whispered. "Why didn't you save me? Why weren't you there for me?" He curled his outstretched hand into a fist and lowered it to his side. His expression darkened. "I died alone. You failed me when I needed you the most. I thought you loved me."

Buffy stared at the image, body tense and face blank. Behind Angel, the Crone crept closer on silent feet, a triumphant expression on her ugly features. The ghost of Angel stepped forward, looming over the petite Slayer.

"This was your fault, you know. If you had stopped Angelus earlier, if you had held me off until my soul returned, then neither of us would be here. I didn't have to die."

Buffy gave a tiny gasp and closed her eyes, a shudder passing through her body. Angel stepped even closer, his voice dropping.

"You could have saved me."

Buffy's eyes flew open. "You're not Angel," she said coldly, and swung her sword with all her strength. It passed straight through the image and sliced into the Crone's leg beyond, shearing it in two. The Crone screeched with pain and flailed backwards, the severed limb spraying viscous black blood. She scaled the wall and retreated back into the webs, her injured leg tucked beneath her. But before Buffy could celebrate her victory, a dozen baby spiders dropped down around her and attacked.

XxxXxxX

The Bad Wolf was an ancient being, wild and primal and unpredictable. She had been born of chaos in the time before the universe came into being and she would watch as the universe blinked back out of existence. She was a warrior, a fighter, a bringer of destruction.

And she loathed bugs.

It boggled her mind that the evolutionary processes had seen fit to produce such creatures. So it was with great pleasure that she tore into the creatures threatening the Slayer's companions. The taste was horrendous as her jaws closed around the body of one that had come too close, but she shook her head until the thing stopped moving and tossed it onto the ground, trampling it under her paws. Two more attached themselves to her sides, their tusks ripping at her flesh. It was only her thick fur that kept them from re-opening the wounds left over from her fight with the Red Hood the night before.

Phoebe seemed completely unaware of the battle ensuing around her, too intent the light she was generating. Jenny knelt protectively over the child, but looked too ill to be of any real help. The Bad Wolf was proven wrong, however, when a spider-creature slipped past her and tried to attack the girl. Jenny leaned forward and brought the rock in her hand down on the thing's head with all of her meager strength, splattering its viscera over the sandy floor. She then flung the rock with pinpoint accuracy, striking one of the creatures clinging to the Wolf's fur, stunning it enough to allow the Wolf to spin and rip its body open with a swipe of her claws.

The Slayer was dealing with her own small swarm of the spiders, the Bad Wolf noted during a stolen moment. The Crone had retreated back to her web, nursing some injury, but the Wolf knew it was only a matter of time before she emerged again, more determined than ever to destroy the Slayer and her allies.

The Bad Wolf snapped at a spider only for it to dodge out of the way at the last moment. The Wolf still managed to catch two of its legs, easily ripping them from the creature's body. Jenny, who had retrieved her rock, pounced on the injured abomination and pounded on its head and body until it ceased moving. Droplets of black goo splashed onto Phoebe's cheek, and she flinched slightly but did not break concentration.

A spider clambered up the Wolf's side onto her back and plunged its tusks into the back of her neck. She howled in pain and rage, trying to twist around to drag the thing off but it managed to stay just out of reach. The Wolf was so occupied in trying to get free that she didn't see the Crone coming until too late.

The mother spider used one leg to brush the Bad Wolf aside almost as an afterthought. The Wolf flew across the cavern and smashed into the wall back-first, crushing the spider that had been attacking her. The Wolf fell to the ground and tried to return to her feet but collapsed with a groan. She did not rise again.

XxxXxxX

The only warning Buffy had was Jenny's cry. Without knowing where the danger was coming from, she trusted her instincts and flung herself to the side, rolling and coming up in a crouch. One of the Crone's legs slammed down on the spot she had just been, scattering the smaller spiders. Buffy didn't have time to try to formulate an attack before the Crone struck again. Buffy lunged once more out of the way, again rolling to her feet.

The Crone screeched in frustration and stabbed two legs at Buffy at once. Buffy dodged one and hacked at the other, blade biting into the chitinous limb. But Buffy knew she couldn't keep this up much longer. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept well and it had been over a day since she'd eaten. Even her Slayer strength was giving out. She looked around for her companions and saw the Bad Wolf lying in an unmoving heap of fur, not far from where Jenny was frantically trying to fend baby spiders away from Phoebe with a rock. With a growl of frustration, Buffy came to a split decision.

Turning toward the Crone, she did the last thing the monster expected. Buffy ran straight at her, sword raised to her cheek. The Crone cackled in triumph and raised two bladed legs to slice the Slayer to pieces. At the last minute, Buffy launched herself into the air. Her booted foot came down on one of the Crone's legs and she flipped herself even higher, soaring over the beast's head and landing squarely on her abdomen. Buffy raised her sword over her head and plunged it down.

The point hit the Crone's armored back and skittered off, carving a shallow groove in the though, black chitin. The Crone reared back, shaking violently in an effort to dislodge the Slayer. Buffy lost her balance and tumbled out of sight.

On the ground, the Bad Wolf managed to regain her feet, swaying slightly with her head low. Blood dripped from her open jaws, staining the sand below her crimson. The Crone caught sight of the Wolf and cackled. "My, my. How the mighty have fallen. Not so fearsome now, are you?"

Slowly, the Wolf's head lifted, her ears swiveling forward. Her eyes blazed with golden power. "I am the Bad Wolf," she said, softly at first. As she continued speaking, her voice grew in strength. "I am the ending of all things and the beginning. I am the chaos and flame and the destruction. I am time." She bared her teeth. "And yours is up."

There was a flicker of movement behind the Crone, and her face froze in a mask of confusion. She sighed, long and low, and her head toppled from her shoulders, landing at the Bad Wolf's feet with a soft thump. Her body followed ponderously, nine remaining legs crumpling one by one as the vast corpse settled onto the ground.

Buffy landed on one knee in front of the Wolf, her sword extended to the right and her head down, golden hair shielding her face. She stood, slowly, lifting her face to meet the Bad Wolf's gaze. They nodded, one warrior to another. Around them, the baby spiders scattered into the darkness. Buffy shook the gore from her sword and slid it into its sheath, then she crossed over and knelt next to Phoebe.

"Phoebe, sweetheart, you can turn it down, now," she said softly, stroking her hand over the girl's hair. Phoebe cautiously opened first one eye, and then the other. At the sight of the Crone's body, she went pale.

"Oh," she gasped, before turning and retching on the sand. Buffy pulled her hair back from her face and patted the girl's back until the heaving finally stopped.

"Buffy," Jenny called hoarsely. Buffy looked around. "I found your pack." Jenny held up the leather haversack. Digging inside, she fished out a water skin and handed it over. Phoebe gratefully took it to rinse her mouth out.

"Can you move?" Buffy asked Jenny. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to stay here."

"Neither do I," Jenny agreed emphatically. She tried to stand and wobbled, nearly collapsing, but the Bad Wolf took her weight against her uninjured side.

"I'll carry her," the Wolf volunteered. "We really should go back to the station house. We can rest and recover there."

Buffy nodded and helped Phoebe to stand. "Good call."

Phoebe looked up at Buffy, her eyes weary and shadowed. "What about Angel?" she asked. "Where is he?"

The Bad Wolf inhaled sharply but said nothing. Buffy looked away, into the darkness beyond the boundary of Phoebe's light. "Angel is dead," she said flatly. She took a deep breath. "Let's get out of here."

XxxXxxX

For the first time since Giles had met the young woman, Faith looked troubled. She sat in one of the library's wooden chairs, her shoulders slumped. Her hands remained clenched in her lap and all of her twitchy, restless energy was gone. She would meet neither his gaze nor Wesley's.

"And that's everything he told you?" Giles asked gently. Faith nodded silently. Giles sighed, took off his glasses, and began to pace. In his office, his kettle began to sing, but Wesley slipped away before Giles could and emerged a moment later with a steaming mug, which he pressed into Faith's hand.

"There will have to be formal inquiry," the younger Watcher began, but after a quelling look from Giles, he hurried on, "Which can wait, of course." He pushed his own spectacles up his nose. "What do we know about the Mayor?"

"Precious little, I'm afraid," Giles admitted, though it irked him to do so. "He's never involved himself or interfered with the slaying before."

"Well, then," Wesley said briskly. "Then it's on to the books." He smiled wanly. "At this, at least, I can be of some use."

Giles blinked. That seemed to be almost an apology for Wesley's former behavior, if he wasn't much mistaken. He nodded in reply, accepting the younger man's offer. Then he put his hand on Faith's shoulder. "For now, you should get home," he told her. "Where are you staying?" he went on, surprised he had never asked before. When Faith mumbled the name of a motel, he was suitably horrified. "That is no place for a young lady, Slayer or not," he sputtered indignantly. "Let me take you back to my place. You can sleep in the guest bedroom."

"Do you think that is quite appropriate?" Wesley piped up hesitantly. Giles glared at him, the meager goodwill toward the younger man fleeing. Wesley held up his hands defensively. "I was only thinking on how it might look, a young woman staying with an older man of no blood relations."

"Well, seeing as how I will be in the library with you for the rest of the night, we can be sure nothing untoward will happen," Giles said dryly. He fetched his coat from his office. "Come along, Faith. I'll drive you there."

Faith got to her feet, her steps dragging as she joined Giles. She didn't even protest when he took her arm to guide her out. Wesley watched them leave, his eyes troubled. Having a Slayer under his charge was not anything like he'd expected. He found himself ridiculously grateful to have someone of Giles' experience around.

XxxXxxX

For an anthropomorphic personification of a natural phenomenon, Death was remarkably hard to pin down. They had to pass through three dimensions and six alternate realities before they found him, quietly observing a school of shrimp scuttle along the bottom of an ocean. He did not acknowledge their arrival and they hovered nearby, unsure of how to announce their presence.

THEY ARE FASCINATING, THESE SIMPLE CRUSTACEANS, Death observed. THEIR BRAINS ARE PRIMITIVE, AND YET THEY HAVE MANAGED TO BECOME THE HIGHEST FORM OF LIFE IN THIS DIMENSION. He turned his cowled skull in their direction, his blue eyes boring into their essences. AND IN APPROXIMATELY THIRTY-TWO MINUTES, THEIR ENTIRE DIMENSION IS GOING TO IMPLODE. CAN YOU TELL ME WHY THAT IS?

Neither of them dared speak, maintaining respectful auras. Death turned back to watch the shrimp. BECAUSE THE SLAYER WAS PULLED INTO HELL WITH THE VAMPIRE, he went on. THIS ONE EVENT IS THREATENING TO UNDUE THE UNIVERSE.

"We are trying to stop it," she said defensively. "We have been working to draw them out of hell and return them to Earth."

He turned once more to glare at them. AND HOW IS THAT PLAN WORKING OUT FOR YOU?

"We have had to work subtly so as not to attract the attention of the Others," she went on, reaching to her companion for help, but he remained silent.

THE VAMPIRE IS DEAD. THE SLAYER IS EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED. YOUR PLAN IS IN RUINS. BECAUSE OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE, ALL OF REALITY IS ABOUT TO SHATTER.

"We did not send the Slayer to hell!" he exclaimed, speaking for the first time.

In a voice colder than the void between stars, Death replied, YOU COULD HAVE PREVENTED IT.

Death rose to his feet and manifested his scythe. His robes billowed in the currents of the ocean and a silvery halo surrounded him. YOU DIDN'T. YOU GAVE THE AUDITORS THE OPPORTUNITY THEY NEEDED. AND NOW YOU COME TO ME FOR HELP. With a twitch of his free hand, Death catapulted them into the emptiness between dimensions.

I WILL HELP YOU, he told them. BUT I WILL DO IT MY WAY.

XXXXXX

Aaaaaand I have not officially incorporated every character from Little Red Riding Hood. Behold my nerdishness! I can't tell you how much fun I've had with the symbolism and reversing the roles, making the Huntsman, Little Red Riding Hood, and the Grandmother into villains. And the Bad Wolf? Bad ass.


End file.
